


In My Corner

by NightFoliage



Series: Boxing AU [1]
Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Incest, M/M, Mostly Fluff, Slow Build, Twincest, a little bit of Mystery Trio, boxing au, end game is stancest, now with romance!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-10
Updated: 2015-09-17
Packaged: 2018-04-14 01:29:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 22,616
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4544964
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NightFoliage/pseuds/NightFoliage
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Instead of giving up boxing, Stanley is encouraged by Stanford to keep going. With his brother's help, Stanley gets the chance to become a great boxer.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Not beta-read. 
> 
> Summary - Where a single decision can shift what was meant to be.

**Stanley and Stanford - Age 12**

“Stan?” Ford whispered into their room. The lights were off, but instead of turning them on, he slipped in and carefully felt his way to their beds. Eventually, he reached the bottom bunk and sat down. “Stan, are you okay?” 

The sheets shifted underneath him. 

“I’m fine,” came a muffled reply.

Stanford sighed and laid a hand on the lump on the bed. “You don’t sound fine to me.”

The lump wriggled and Stanley’s head popped out from under the sheets. Although Ford still couldn’t see his brother, his voice was no longer stifled by the blankets.

“I’m not going to the boxing gym anymore,” Stan said with a sniffle. 

“What!” Ford exclaimed, then slapped a hand over his mouth. Once he was sure that their parents weren’t coming, Ford continued, “Why?” He whispered.

“No reason…” Stan mumbled.

“Stanley…” His brother could be so stubborn at times. Ford sighed again, then gently shoved his brother. “Move over.”

His twin obliged, scooting closer to the wall so Ford could lay down next to him. This close, even in the dark, Ford could make out the features of his brother’s face. His melancholy was palpable, especially with the sniffling. 

After a stretch of silence, Stan started speaking again, “Dad says he’ll only let me go if you wanna go too, but I don’t want to force you to go.” Stan admitted. Ford shuddered at the thought of having to go back. He still had a black eye from the last boxing lesson. “So I won’t go anymore,” Stan finished. 

“Stan-”

“It’s fine, Ford. I don’t need to be a boxer. After all, we’re going to be treasure hunting adventurers, aren’t we?” Stan asked. 

“Of course, Stan, I-” Ford paused. It wasn’t that Ford didn’t want that life for them, but.. “I don’t want you giving up on something that you enjoy just because of me.”

“Ford-”

“No,” Ford interrupted. “You know what, you don’t need to go to a gym to be a great boxer. You have everything you need right here.”

“What are you talking about?” Stan said, confused. 

“The legal age to start doing matches is eighteen right? Then we can just have you training the basics until then. I could be your coach!” Ford whispered excitedly. “I could look up techniques, and help you with fitness, and, I could figure out cool finishing moves for you! That way I don’t have to box, but you can still join the gym.”

Stan was silent for moment. Then, “You’re willing to do that, Ford? For me?”

“Of course,” Ford said. 

The bed creaked slightly as Stan nodded. “Then let’s do it, Coach Sixer. You’ve got the brains-”

“And you have the punching,” Ford finished. 

-000-

In the years that followed, Stan and Ford both committed themselves to making this promise into a reality. They would peek into the windows of the local boxing gyms and watch any matches that were showing on television. Ford had fun creating regimens and refining techniques for his brother to try. Stan in turn, made sure to always help carry Ford’s things and tried to do push-ups with his brother sitting on his back for strength training. 

While Ford was never really interested in some of the ‘normal’ sciences, he found himself eager to do any research that might help brother. And Stan was always willing to test out his theories, even some of the stranger ones (they would never again mention the experiment with the potato). 

In a way, Stanford was.. relieved that his twin had something to call his own. As he got older, he sometimes worried about Stanley. They were so close, but they couldn't stay that way forever. Especially when they were _so_ different. But now, his brother had boxing, and Ford would gladly dedicate himself to helping out Stan however he could.

They had kept their practice a secret so they could later surprise their father with Stan’s new abilities at the right time. However, as a result, Stan never got to test his abilities against anyone. 

Until...

-000-

**Stanley and Stanford - Age 15**

The four Pines were seated at the dinner table, enjoying their evening meal when Filbrick Pines had made the announcement. Ma Pines had looked a bit annoyed, but resigned. Stan had stopped eating. And Ford had asked his father to repeat himself.

“An amateur boxing tournament,” Filbrick said again. “Bobby needed a couple of spots filled so I signed you two boys up.”

“Hey,” Stan snapped. “Why didn’t you ask us beforehand, Pops?”

Filbrick’s expression started to darken, but Ford quickly interrupted, “It’s fine, Dad. We were just surprised. Weren’t we, Stan?” 

Stan blinked in surprise. “Uh, yeah. Surprised,” Stan agreed quickly.

Filbrick seemed to be pacified with their response and began to relax. “Good,” he said, gruffly. “It’s this weekend and I’ll take you boys there myself.”

-000-

“What was that all about?” Stan asked, when they had gone back to their room. “I thought you didn’t like fighting?”

“Don’t you see, Stan? This the chance that we’ve been waiting for! You can finally test your boxing skills,” Ford said, excited. 

Stan’s eyes widened, “You mean…”

“Yes! Stan, if you show him how talented you are, Dad will have to let you box!” His twin exclaimed. Granted it was a bit earlier then Ford was expecting, but Stan really had improved. As long as Stan showed off his abilities, their dad would have to let Stan continue boxing.

“I- I dunno, Ford,” Stan mumbled, turning away.

Ford gently turned his brother so that they were face to face. “Hey,” Ford said. Stan eyes were downcast, and his shoulders were hunched. Ford placed a hand on each of his twin’s shoulders and gave him a gentle shake. “Come on, Stanley. Look at me. Please.” Stanley finally looked up. 

Stanford made sure to look Stanley straight in the eye and said, “I believe in you, Stanley.” 

A grateful smile, bloomed on Stan’s face and his cheeks pinked. For reasons only known to them, they started to laugh. Stan pulled Ford in for a noogie. His brother playfully fought against his hands, but laughed louder when Stan messed up his hair. When Stan finally let go, Ford punched his shoulder.

Then Stan frowned when he realized that they didn’t talk about Ford’s participation in the boxing tournament. 

“Uh, but what about you, Poindexter?” Stan asked, worried. After all, he was the muscle between the two. 

Ford was still chuckling, “Don’t worry about it. I’ve been studying with you this whole time. In fact, I’m a little curious about how much I’ve improved,” he admitted.

“If you say so,” Stan said. He would just have to trust that Ford knew what he was doing.

-000-

The day of the tournament, the twins were sitting on the bleachers with the other boys and their coaches. Stan triple-checked Ford’s gear. “Your wrappings are on tight, right Ford?” Stan asked for fifth time that day. 

Ford rolled his eyes at his brother’s over-protectiveness. “For the fifth time, yes, Stan. All my gear is fine. I checked, you triple,” his brother poked at the wrappings, “quadruple-checked. Don’t worry about me, think about yourself!” 

He glanced at their father who was on the other side of the ring. Stan didn’t reply and started to nervously tapping his leg. Ford sighed fondly. He should have just let Stan fuss over him if it meant that he was less nervous. 

Before Ford could say anything, he was interrupted by someone clearing their throat.

“As you boys may know, I am Coach Weave, and this here is a small amateur tournament.” He said, gruffly. “However, there is no headgear, we’ll be using regulation gloves, and there will be no foul play. It may be practice, but treat these like a real match. Four rounds max, normal rules. We’ll be going by brackets. You lose, and you’re out of the competition. Be the last guy standing, and you’re the winner. We’ll be starting now. First up, Stanford Pines and James Goodwin.” 

Stan’s eyes widened comically at hearing his brother’s name. Ford chuckled, “Well, I guess I’m up first.” 

“Ford,” Stan started. “I-”

“Hold my glasses for me, will you?” Ford interrupted, and plopped his glasses on Stan’s head. 

_“Ford-”_

“Don’t worry, Stan. I’ll be fine,” Ford said, reassuringly. Stan grimaced, but nodded. They walked up to the ring and Stan lifted the ropes for his brother. Ford flashed him a grin and Stan reluctantly went to sit down. 

“Get ready, boyos!” The coach called out. 

Ford brought his fists up and the bell rang.

-000-

“Winner! Pines!”

Four rounds later, Stan let out the breath that he was holding. He hopped onto his feet to grab the ropes for his brother. 

Ford was grinning widely at his brother, when he stepped out of the ring. “Did you see that, Stan?”

“Yeah, I saw it nerd,” Stan said with a smile, handing back his brother’s glasses. 

However, inwardly Stan was trying to calm his racing heart. Ford had won that match with nothing but his wits, reflexes, and techniques. He had managed not to get hit (and boy, did the opposition try), and had managed a few counter punches that caused the other guy to get off-balance and touch the mat. 

But now that the other guys had seen Ford’s abilities, they weren’t going to go easy on him in the next match. 

“Oh look, we’re on opposite sides of the tournament brackets,” Ford pointed out. “If we fight each other, it would be in the finals.”

Stan followed Ford’s finger to the chalkboard. “Well, that’s a relief,” he said softly. 

“Just look,” Ford continued, “All you have to do is win four matches and you’ll be the winner of the tournament.”

“Well,” Stan looked at his twin’s hopeful face and said, “If you think I can do it, then I’ll win it.”

Ford gave Stan a brilliant smile. “That’s the spirit, Stan.”

“Up next: Stanford Pines and Andres Martinez!”

“That’s my cue,” Stan said. 

-000-

Four wins later and Stanley Pines was declared the winner of the boxing tournament.

“You did it, Stan!” Ford exclaimed.

Stan was still breathing hard from the last match, but he managed to gasp out, “I did it.” 

The last match was a bit of a blur for Stanley. Hell, so were the other two matches before that. After Ford had gotten a black eye from his second match and lost.. well, there was nothing in the world that was stopping him from winning his bracket and beating up the guy that had hurt his twin. He smiled and slung an arm over Ford’s shoulder. Honestly, he was so happy because Ford was happy.

Ford on the other hand, was so proud of his brother. “You were amazing-”

“Yeah, you weren’t too bad, kid.” The twins whipped around to face Coach Weave. They remembered him from their earlier lessons at the gym as a kind, but rather strict coach. He was smiling at them now. Or more specifically, he was smiling at Stanley.

“Granted most of the boys here were just as green as you were, but I was expecting more out of them. Stanley, you thinking about joining the gym again?” He asked.

“Well uhhh-” Stan stuttered. Ford silently encourages his brother to be strong and say-

“Yes.” Both the boys’ heads looked towards the new voice. It was their dad. 

“If you think he has potential, Bobby..” Filbrick continued.

“I think I could make something out of him, Filbrick,” Coach Weave said. 

“Stan has tons of potential,” Ford chimed in, then elbowed his brother.

That shook Stan out of his stupor. “Uh, yes. I would like to join the gym again, sir,” Stan said.

The adults nodded and the twins looked at each other to share a smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Ramblings - This AU has been on my mind for awhile. I always liked the idea of Stanley being able to be successful in something he enjoyed and I wanted to show a universe where that happened.
> 
> Originally, I wasn't going to make this outright Stancest. It's a pairing I enjoy because I want the two to be happy together, but I didn't necessarily need them romantically paired. But tumblr has warped my mind (you know who you are) and now I will do my best to add to this pairing.


	2. Chapter 2

In the years that followed, Stanley and Stanford somehow became closer than ever.

Entering high school, the twins’ respective hobbies had them spending less time with each other. After school, Stan would go to the boxing gym, while Ford would send time with the science clubs or the libraries. Soon, their peers of similar interests often became their friends. However, their so-called ‘friends,’ didn’t understand the bond the two brothers shared. They often wondered why one would never go without the other.

Instead of this thought process making the brothers more independent, they became closer as a need to prove that although their hobbies were different, although they themselves were so different, Stan and Ford were still best together. 

People didn’t get it, but they respected the brothers (and feared Stan’s fists) enough to let them live how they wanted to. While their attitude didn’t gain them many friends, they still had each other to lean on. 

(The only incident that might have ripped the two apart involved one very lovely, Carla McCorkle, but she had met a hippy with bellbottoms before any irreparable damage could occur.)

They were the perfect team. Stan kept the bullies of Ford’s back letting him nerd out to his heart’s content. He also helped carry the dozens of references that Ford always wanted. Ford continued to help his brother in learning boxing techniques and always patched him up. 

Ford’s brain and Stan’s fists, earned them awards and recognition through the years.

And despite their busy schedules, they made sure to always put away a little bit of time working on their boat. The future was looking bright, for the both of them.

Until one day..

-000-

**Stanley and Stanford - Age 18**

“Pines twins to the principal’s office. Pines twins to the principal’s office.” Stan and Ford exchanged a confused look, but they left class to head to the office. Ford hoped it wasn’t another warning for Stan. Although the Principal seemed to have a bit of a soft spot for Stan (he was a boxing fan), there was only so many times that Stan could get into fights and not get into trouble.

As they neared the door, a voice interrupted them, “Not you, Stan. The principal asked for Ford,” the secretary said, a slightly flirtatious smile directed towards his brother.

Stan smiled back and swaggered to her desk. She giggled. “Aww, are you sure hon? Cuz-”

“I’m heading in, Stan,” Ford interrupted, rolling his eyes. On second thought, his brother was fine. 

Stan shot the girl a quick wink and followed his brother into the office.

The boys’ eyes widened when they saw both of their parents already sitting down. There was only one chair in between their mom and dad, but the principal didn’t ask Stan to leave. Stan shut the door and stood of to the side, while Ford went to take the seat. 

“Now Mr.Pines, I would like to speak to you very frankly, if I may?“ The principal asked.

“Very frankly is the only way I speak,” Filbrick answered.

“You have two sons, both of which you can be proud of,” the principal said.

“Yes, we’re very proud of both of our sons,” Gigi Pines said. Filbrick said nothing.

“One of them is turning into our local boxing hero. Stanley, I heard you just got your pro license?” The Principal asked abruptly.

“Uh, yes, sir,” Stanley replied.

“Good for you,” the principal said with a nod. “However, you should know about how your other son is a genius! All his teachers are going bananas over his science fair experiment!” He exclaimed with much more enthusiasm than when he was talking to Stan. 

“You ever heard of West Coast Tech?” The principal continued, handing over a pamphlet to Ford. “Best school in the country, their students turn science fiction into science fact! The admissions team is coming over tomorrow to check out Stanford’s experiment. Your son may be a future millionaire, Mr.Pines.” 

“I’m impressed,” Filbrick said with a smile. 

Ford looked to his father in amazement. His dad was never impressed! 

Their parents and the principal continued to talk about Stanford’s opportunities and about his bright future. Ford however, was silent, completely immersed in the thought of the possibilities that lay before him by going to West Coast Tech. None of them noticed Stan’s hurt expression. 

-000-

Later, Stanley and Stanford were both sitting on their swings at the beach. 

They were both silent, but for very different reasons. 

Ford was swinging slightly, with a goofy grin on his face. Every once in a while he would let out a happy sigh and stare at the pamphlet in his hand.

Stan watched his brother be happy about a future that didn’t involve him. 

“Ford?” Stan asked, tentatively.

His brother looked over at him with a bright smile. “Yeah, Stan?” 

“So, uh,” Ford kept smiling, “Thinking about going to some stuffy college on the other side of the country?”

Ford chuckled. “Yeah, I can’t believe. It sounds too good to be true,” he said dreamily.

“You sure you want to go? Once we finish the Stan O’ War, it could be beaches, babes, and international treasure hunting for the rest of our days,” Stan declared, gesturing to their pride and joy. Ford looked fondly at the boat and Stan, but glanced back down to the pamphlet. Stan’s heart clenched. Or maybe that was only his dream...

“I would love that,” Ford said. “But I can’t pass up this chance.” Stan looked away and frowned. “And neither should you.”

Stan whipped around to look at his brother. “What?”

“You have your pro boxing license now. It’s what we’ve working towards this whole time. And I I feel like.. that I’m not helping you as much as I used to,” Ford admitted. “I.. always want to be by your side Stan, but I don’t want to weigh you down.”

Stanley was speechless. Those were, that was something he should be saying to Ford, not the other way around. Before Stan could even wrap his mind around the conversation, Ford continued talking.

“But that all depends on if the college board is impressed with my experiment tomorrow. I mean, if they aren’t, then I may have to consider the treasure hunting thing,” Ford finished, punching his arm in the shoulder. He flashed Stan a worried smile and left to go back home. 

Stan watched his brother go and kept looking even when his brother was out of view. Then he turned his gaze to the Stan O’ War. The sun backlit the boat, masking the imperfections. But even with those flaws, Stan thought the ship was beautiful. He could just imagine it, him and Ford, sailing away from the town and going wherever they wanted to. 

Together. 

Then he thought about how happy Ford was thinking about the college. How hopeful Ford was about Stan’s own boxing career.

He sighed and stood up. 

There was something Stan had to do tonight. 

-000-

The next day, Ford had burst out of the school with a huge smile on his face. “I did it!” He yelled, not caring if anyone else heard him. 

Because he had done it! The college admission people had loved his project and they were giving him a full ride to West Tech. Ford couldn’t wait to tell Stanley. 

He wondered if Stan was still snoring away, curled up in bed where he had left him. Ford had been a bit worried about getting in, but not enough to worry his brother. It wasn’t very often that his brother got to sleep in. 

But now Ford had to go tell Stan the news! 

Ford could imagine Stan’s reaction, Stan smiling and offering him a hug and a high six...

“Hey Stanford, I heard the news!” Said a familiar someone, interrupting Ford’s daydreams. 

It was Angie McCorkle. And for some reason, she was talking to him. They hadn’t spoken since she had splashed punch on him at the dance. Surreptitiously, Ford checked to see if anyone else around. Sure she had said ‘Stanford,’ but there was no way she was talking to him.

“I heard the news,” she gushed excitedly.

She had heard about his admittance into West Coast Tech? “Uh, you did, well-” Ford stuttered.

“That Stanley’s first boxing match is set for this following weekend! Wish him luck for me, okay?” Angie said with a smile. She walked away with a wave and Ford gaped at her.

Then her words sunk in. 

“STANLEY’S FIRST MATCH IS THIS WEEKEND!?!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Ramblings - 
> 
> Both the names for Ma Pines and the unnamed girl that splashed punch on Ford, are not mine. Gigi Pines is from the amazing theywerefireworks' fic, Homecomings. And Angie McCorkle's name is from the lovely redcarrigan's fanfic, This Divide Between You and I.


	3. Chapter 3

“Why didn’t you tell me you were having a match in a week! A week, Stanley!” Ford exclaimed. 

Stan didn’t respond, instead concentrating on timing his punches on the speed bag. 

Ford began pacing and gesticulating wildly with his ranting. “I mean, sure, you don’t have to slim down too much to get to the weight limit, but still! A week?” 

His brother rolled his eyes.

Ford stopped abruptly in place, “And your opponent! He’s already got a few wins under his belt, doesn’t he?”

The ringing of a clock went off and Stan stopped his workout to shut it off. Then he walked to the bench, Ford following, and took off his gloves. He finally noticed the flyer in Ford’s hand and his sweaty grimace turned into a smile. 

“Ford! High six! Why didn’t you tell me you got into your nerd college?” Stan put his hand up in the air. For a second, all Ford can do is stare at his brother’s hand. “Come on, Sixer,” he said fondly, “Don’t leave me hanging.”

Incredulous, Ford gave his twin a high six. Stan chuckled, and pulled his brother in for a hug. “I’m so proud of you,” Stan crooned, making sure to nuzzle in close and get his sweat all over Ford.

Ford pretended to choke, “Ugh, you reek and you're perspiring _everywhere_.” However, inwardly Ford could feel his worry take a backseat as his brother’s happiness was contagious. They found themselves dissolving into laughter for no reason. 

Later, when the family was all together, celebrating Ford’s acceptance into his dream college, Ford realized they never addressed the issue of Stan’s boxing match. 

-000-

On the night of the match, Ford, Stan, and Coach Weave were in the waiting room, about to be called up for Stan’s match. Ford found himself once again pacing, trying to calm his racing heart. He accidently bumped into someone else and they growled menacingly at him. Apologizing profusely,, Ford backed up and almost tripped, before a firm hand guided him to a seat on a bench. 

“Careful there, Ford,” Stan said, keeping his grip tight on his brother’s arm. “Or you’ll be the one getting in a fight tonight, not me.”

Ford huffed and crossed his arms. However, he didn’t remove Stan’s hand. Instead, he gently pressed his leg against Stanley’s own in a silent show of support. His brother smiled and moved to sling an arm over Ford’s shoulder. 

“It’ll be fine,” Stan said placatingly. 

Ford smiled back and he could feel his mood lift, before darkening again. Tonight was Stanley’s big night and all Stanford was doing was messing things up. It should be Ford’s job to cheer Stan up, not the other way around. 

Before Ford could do something to rectify the situation, someone called into the waiting room, “Pines! You’re up in ten!” 

“Let’s go,” Coach Weave grunted. 

Stan silently stood up to follow his coach, while Ford toddled after them. He nervously wrung his hands, all six fingers fidgeting, unable to stay still. Mind racing, Ford wondered if this was a good idea, the idea of Stan boxing that is. After all, a pro boxer didn’t wear headgear like the amatuer groups did and they used lighter gloves. The punches were going to be coming faster and stronger than what Stan was used to. 

Ford was struck by a horrible thought. What if.. Stan got hurt? And not the usual scrapes he would typically get into, but truly and terribly injured. 

Suddenly, Ford walked into someone’s bare back. Thankfully, it was his brother’s.

“What did I say about being careful, Ford? You’re going to get hurt,” Stan said, amused. 

Ford swallowed. 

“Pines, get ready to go into the ring,” said the person manning to the door. 

This was such a mistake. Ford should have tried to put his foot down right at that moment and begged Stanley not to go through with the match. However, before he could even form that thought, Stan spoke.

“Hey.” Stan said. “After this is all over and I have my first win, give me a high six, okay?” 

“Okay,” Ford agreed instantly without thinking. Then mentally slapped himself. He was supposed to be stopping Stanley from boxing, not encouraging him. 

However, Stan didn’t know what Ford was thinking so he grinned, looking immensely satisfied with the answer. 

Stan turned away from Ford and walked towards the boxing ring. 

-000-

Ford was regretting not stopping Stan from getting into the ring. They were two rounds in and Stanley was getting his ass handed to him. The opposition pounded his brother and looked to be enjoying it. Even worse was the crowd. They were cheering the opponent on, crying out excitedly when a particularly painful looking punch would break through Stan’s defense and slug him across the face. 

“Why isn’t the ref stopping this, Coach Weave,” Ford said desperately. “Stan’s getting his butt kicked.”

The coach didn’t even turn to look Ford’s way. Instead he sighed and continued to watch the match. “This is what the crowd was expecting when they came to see this match, some nobody getting his arse handed to him by a better opponent,” the coach answered. “His other opponent dropped out for this reason, and there was no one else willing to fight him. In fact, it’s the only way a totally newbie like Stan could have gotten a match with this guy,” Coach Weave conceded. 

Ford’s eyes widened. His nightmare was turning into reality. 

“The round’s almost over,” Coach Weave said. “Get the supplies ready.”

At that moment, the bell rang, and Stanley was stumbling towards their corner of the ring. Stanford quickly set out the stool and grabbed the water and a towel. Coach Weave started talking as soon as Stan sat down, but Ford wasn’t paying attention. All he could do was mop up his brother’s sweat and blood, then he would be back in the ring, while Ford watched about do absolutely nothing…

“Hey.”

Ford glanced up to see his brother smiling crookedly at him. “Don’t worry, I have him on the ropes, Poindexter.” Stan tried to give him a bigger smile. 

His smile was covered in blood. 

“I don’t know if I can watch you get hurt anymore,” Ford admitted, softly. 

“Then don’t watch me get hurt, watch me win this thing,” Stan said. He turned to his coach, “Eyyy, don’t worry about this Coach Weave, I got this.” 

Coach Weave scrunched up his face, but didn’t say anything. Instead, he grumbled about stubborn boys and their brothers. 

The two stepped off the platform, leaving Stan in the ring with his opponent. 

The bell rang again, signaling the start of another round. Stan pulled himself into a fighting stance and the two boxers met in the middle of the ring. The rest seemed to do Stan some good, he managed to defend himself better and take less hits for the first few trade-offs. 

Ford tried not to get his hopes up, but he couldn’t help it. Seeing Stan fighting so fiercely and so passionately, Ford couldn’t help but believe his brother could win. 

However, the opposition was dead set against preventing this. They traded punch after punch, and after a few moments, it was clear that Stanley was flagging. Ford could barely watch as his brother was backed into the corner. It looked like the other guy was about to lay the final blow, his fist coming down to put Stan out for good, when Stan pulled a punch out of nowhere and rammed it into his opponent's face. 

The other man staggered back, both in pain and surprise. Suddenly, Stan was a maverick, laying blow after blow on his opponent. He didn’t even care that he was getting hit back, only that his hits were landing. Disorientated, the adversary tried to pull himself together, but Stan wasn’t letting him. He roared, punching at the other’s guard making the the other stumble. Stan took the opportunity to land a left hook directly on the guy’s temple. The opponent stumbled, then hit the mat. 

“To your neutral corner!” The referee yelled. 

Stan limped to the corner and leaned heavily against the ropes. Not moments later, the crowd cried out and Stan turned around to see the ref waving his arm in the arms. 

The match was over and Stan had won. 

Ford was suddenly in front of him, grinning widely and laughing. “Stan! You did it! You won!”

And that was all the confirmation Stan needed, a huge grin took over his face. “High six!” He exclaimed.

“High six!” Ford enthusiastically said back.

They wouldn’t know until the next day, but a small local newspaper had taken a picture of the exact moment of the two brother’s high sixing. The photo would be used for a small story on Stan’s impressive victory that night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't really have any boxing experience so there may be some inaccuracies.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The start of the change.

It was completely dark out when the boys were heading home. Luckily, it wasn’t too far and they stumbled their way back , giggling and cheering the whole way there. Well, Stan was stumbling, one arm slung over his brother’s shoulder, while Ford did his best to keep them from falling over. 

Stan was still riding the high of the victory, laughing and smiling despite his numerous injuries. Ford constantly scanned Stan’s face for any pain, but found none. He laughed along with his brother. 

Seconds later, they almost fell over as Stan tripped over another non-existent obstacle. 

Ford managed to right themselves before they landed face first. “He sure did a number on you,” Ford said. This had to be the fifth time they almost fell over. Ford was tempted to sit Stan down for another check-up, but they were almost home anyways. 

“It was worth it,” Stan said. Then he threw his head back to laugh.. 

They teetered, precariously.

After the threat of falling was over, Ford stared at his brother again. “Are you sure you’re okay?” Ford asked, worried.

“I’m fine, Ford,” Stan said, still sniggering. “You should see the other guy.”

“I did see him and he looks less beat up than you, Champ,” Ford replied dryly. 

“Huh.. Champ, short for champion, eh? Not often you give me a nickname. I like it.” Stan declared. 

“Champion,” Ford snorted. “I’m not sure if that nickname suits a guy that needed help washing his hair after a match.”

“Hey!” Stan said indignantly. “I thought we agreed to never mention that again!”

Tightening his grip around Stan’s side, Ford made sure that they weren’t about to fall over (again). “Come on, Champ” he said, voice affectionate and exasperated, “Let’s get you patched up.” And Ford can only hope that’s the end of the conversation. As much as he wanted to indulge Stanley’s good mood, Ford desperately wanted to look over his brother and make sure he’s okay. Especially since he was stumbling so much, was it a symptom of something else? He was going to have to pull out some of his old medical textbooks-

Something gently smacked Stanford in the face.

Ford sighed. 

“Hey, check it out,” Stan said with glee. 

“Please get that out of my face, Stanley,” Ford said. Perhaps the stumbling was not a sign of some underlying medical problem, but just Stanley being a big goof combined with exhaustion. 

Stan took the envelope, but still waved it in front of his twin’s face. “I won this,” Stan said proudly. 

“You’re amazing, Stan,” Ford said amused, but completely truthful.

"Let's buy something nice for Shermy," Stan declared.

Ford gently hefted Stan up, "You sure, Champ?" 

Stan started getting more and more excited at the prospect, "Yeah I'm sure! I mean, yeah, Shermy could probably survive off our hand-me-downs, but kids hate that!" 

"I don't think Shermy really cares right now, he's an infant," Ford said. 

"Still!" Stan said, trying to wave his arms to punctuate his point. Ford held fast and righted his grip around his brother.

Maybe Stan had a point though, Ford thought. It wouldn't do for Sherman to not be able to cultivate his own self if he was constantly getting their hand-me-downs.

"You could save it for when he gets older and can actually decide what he wants," Ford said, thoughtfully. "But it's your money, Stan-"

"Our money," Stan cut in.

Ford glanced over at his brother. Even in the dim light, he could tell that Stan was serious. He considered arguing, but something told him to just agree.

"...Alright then. Let's get Shermy something nice," Ford said.

Stan chuckled. "We're gonna be the best big brother's ever." 

Ford's heart swelled and he turned away before his brother could see the goofy grin on his face. One of them was already the best brother and it wasn't him.

They continued to stumble back home.

-000-

When they arrived at their house, the twins did their best to be quiet. However, there was no need. Their father and mother, who was holding baby Shermy, were awake and waiting for them.

Stan straightened and removed himself from Ford's support. 

"Uh, Mom. Dad," Stan said with a nervous chuckle. "Why are you guys still up?"

"Mom! Dad!" Ford started excitedly. "Stan, he-"

Filbrick held a hand up and they fell silent. "I saw the whole thing. Stanley, that fight was horrible. Your form was sloppy, you need to practice your footwork, and don't even get me started on your jabs."

Ford's face fell and his heart clenched. He glanced at his brother, but Stan was emotionless. Ford had to stop himself from shuddering at his brother's blank expression. 

Filbrick and Stanley stared at each other.

Filbrick broke the silence.

"You have potential, son," Filbrick admitted. 

Gigi Pines took that opportunity to go hug her son. After passing Sherman to Stanford, she threw her arms around Stan. "Oh Stanley, your father and I are so proud of you. You should have seen your father, cursing at the screen and cheering for you."

Stanley's careful expression turned into bewilderment and even Ford couldn't stop his eyebrows from flicking up in surprise. 

"Now now, Gigi, Stanley doesn't need you smothering him. He's a man now," Filbrick said gruffly. 

The twins' mother tutted at her husband and began to examine her son's face. 

"I'm fine, Ma," Stan said. Unfortunately, his injuries were as bad as they looked. He tried to distract her with something else. "Uh, look! Since I won, I got the fight money." He held up the envelope. 

"We were thinking of getting something for Shermy," Ford added. 

“That’s so sweet of you,” Gigi cooed, squishing Stan’s face in between her hands. Stan kept smiled, trying not to show how painful the treatment was for him. 

Ford stepped in, “Uh, I think you better hold Shermy, Ma. I think he misses you.” 

Ma Pines released Stan and took Sherman into her arms. Seeing how sleepy Shermy looked, she gave a kiss to all her men and went to go put the baby to bed. Once she left, Filbrick took that chance to speak frankly. 

“You know, Stanley,” both boys focused on their father, “I was thinking about having you stop boxing if it was just a hobby, but it looks like you might have the makings of a good boxer. I’m going to go with you to the gym to help with your training,” he declared. 

Filbrick went on about the training that he would put Stan through and the things they would have to work on, while Stan looked at his father with hope, and Ford looked at his brother with pride. 

-000-

“Ow! Can you be a bit more careful?” 

“I could say the same to you. And keep it down? We don’t want to wake anyone up.”

Stan grumbled, but kept his voice quiet. Ford sighed and kept applying iodine to his brother’s wounds. They were back in their room and Ford had immediately sat Stan down so he could check on injuries. They looked horrible and Ford was afraid that Stan was hiding something that he couldn’t fix. He would have to take Stan to the hospital tomorrow. But for now, he would work on the things he could help with.

There were some pretty nasty cuts on Stan’s face and he was probably going to have two black eyes. Not to mention there were countless bruises marring his brother’s skin. Ford had tried to examine the ones on Stan’s ribs, but his twin had batted his hand away. 

However, despite his unease over seeing his twin’s injuries, Ford was so proud of Stan. Stan had won his first match and against a favored fighter to boot! Ford pretended to examine his brother’s head, but secretly used it as an opportunity to run his hand through Stan’s hair.

Stan was amazing and Ford was so happy that other people could see that too now. 

“You can go to your school with no worries, Sixer,” Stan whispered. 

So caught up in his thoughts, Ford almost didn’t hear him. 

Almost. 

His hand paused.

“I know you were worried about me, but you don’t hafta,” Stan continued, his tone soft. 

Ford could feel himself once again marveling at how truly.. good, Stanley was. Good to him, especially. He started moving his hand through Stan’s locks, not even putting up the pretense of examining for head wounds. Ford had long since finished up fixing up what he could. Everything else was extra. 

“You’re the one with multiple contusions and lacerations, why wouldn’t I be worried?” Ford finally said back, his tone mimicking Stan’s own

“These are nothing,” Stan replied. 

Ford didn’t reply. He simply continued his ministrations with a smile.


	5. Chapter 5

Stanley’s win launched his boxing career. 

At first he was thought of as the underdog, a boxer who had won his first match against a talented opponent with sheer dumb luck. But after several matches where he kept winning, people were quick to realize that maybe, Stanley had the makings of a champion boxer. 

Their father replaced Ford as Stan’s second, but Ford didn’t miss any of Stan’s matches. And after every fight, he made sure to patch Stan up, personally.

Months passed and then it was finally time for Stanford to go live out his dream. 

It was strange, after being able to talk to his brother about almost everything, Ford could barely utter a goodbye. Ford had shook his father’s hand, given his mother a hug, given Shermy a hug, but he didn’t share any words with his twin brother. 

Instead, they shared a smile. 

Ford had boarded the train with no regrets. His head was filled with dreams of what he could achieve and the memories of the people that were supporting him.

And West Coast Tech was even better than he could have imagined. Ford was surrounded by his peers that had the same drive that he had, that had similar experiences to his own, and the same thirst for knowledge. It was startling and heedy and it made Ford want to do better and be better. 

That desire drove Ford to work twice as hard, but he enjoyed every second of it. He had gone from undergrad to PHD three years ahead of schedule, wrote a thesis that was nationally ranked, and eventually was thought to be one of the most promising scientists in the school.

But also the craziest. 

For Ford’s whole life, he had been teased for his six fingers. That wasn’t an issue at West Tech, the students knew their genetics and biology and understood that what Ford had been born with was completely in the norm. No, the problem was Ford’s interest in anomalies, things that were odd, unusual, and statistically improbable.

People wondered why someone as brilliant as Ford would want to devote his mind to such phenomenons, when he could study something much more important and worthwhile. Why he didn’t go for a more common field of study. 

‘Space and computers were the next big thing,’ people said. Computers and miniaturizing technology was a very ‘in’ field of study. Not to mention the US had just managed to get a man on the moon. Space was the next frontier and people were clamoring to join NASA and build spacecrafts and rockets. If people were interested in the unusual and improbable, they were usually into aliens, lifeforms that hadn’t been discovered yet. 

Ford was having none of that. It wasn’t that he wasn’t interested in some of the new rising technology and space theories, Ford was just more interested in the anomalies that occur in the here and now, on Earth. There was much that was unexplained right in front of people, but instead they chose to look at the stars. 

He didn’t quite understand why people criticized his choice of study. Maybe they were jealous, or maybe they truly thought the field of study was beneath him, but this was what Ford had a passion for. It was what he had wanted to study his whole life and finally had the chance to. 

While Ford had a lot of peers, his busy schedule and field of interest didn’t make him any friends, except for one, Fiddleford McGucket. 

They had met at a Dungeons, Dungeons, and More Dungeons event and after several campaigns, they had managed to become close. Their game sessions led to them talking about everything and Ford realized that he found a brilliant mind, as well as a friend. And even though Fiddleford went to BackupsMore, he was one of the most intelligent people he had ever met and would have been one of the best students had he gone to West Coast Tech. 

Eventually they talked about the ostracization they faced due to their respective interests. Fiddleford for his spectacular inventions and Stanford for his study in anomalies. 

Some days, it felt like the only thing that kept Ford from running away from society and living in the woods was Fiddle’s and his family’s support. Fiddleford reminded Ford that not everyone was closed minded, while his family stopped him from quitting altogether. 

(At times, he bitterly wondered if it was his family holding him back. If he had inherited his father’s stubbornness, and that was the cause of him pursuing a field that others shunned or deemed unworthy. Maybe it was his mother’s fierce and loving nature that made him desire his own path above any other. Perhaps it was Shermy, his baby brother that made him unable to let go of his family, not wanting to lose someone he didn’t even get to know.

And sometimes, Ford wondered if it was Stan who was the real obstacle. Stan, who was his cornerstone, his pillar, his everything, and quite possibly the one that could ruin everything.

Ford didn’t like to consider this theory often and tucked it deep into the recesses of his mind.)

Instead of visiting, his family sent letters and packages his way, filled with Shermy’s drawings and clippings from the newspaper that featured Stan. Occasionally, they would call. 

-000-

“Yes, I’m doing quite well Shermy,” Ford said. The receiver of the telephone was carefully balanced between his head and his shoulder, while his hands were full of pushpins. 

_“Okaaaay. You better be taking care of yourself. Oh! And did you get the package?”_

“And yes, I did get the package! Your drawings are phenomenal! Your picture is even better than the one in the newspaper,” Ford remarked. He glanced at the most recent drawing he had hung up. It was an amazingly lifelike sketch of Stanley with his fists thrown into the air after a boxing victory. 

Shermy lowered his voice. _“Don’t tell Dad, but Stan got me good pencils even though I told him not to,”_ Shermy huffed, but his warm tone betrayed him. 

Ford chuckled. Stan did enjoy spending his fight money on his family, on Sherm especially. “I promise I won’t tell Dad,” he said to Sherman.

 _“Sherman Pines! It’s time for bed!”_ Their mother yelled from someplace further away. 

_“One sec, Ma!”_ Shermy yelled a little too loudly. _“Goodnight Ford!_

Ford winced, but smiled at his brother’s enthusiasm. “Goodnight Shermy.”

He waited for the click of a receiver to signal the end of the call, but was instead greeted by a rough voice, _“Hey, Sixer.”_

Ford felt a grin spread across his face. “Hey, Champ.”

 _“Ugh, still calling me that?”_ Stanley groaned into the phone.

“Still calling me, Sixer?” Stanford countered. 

They both chuckled. There was some rustling over the phone and Ford patiently pushed a few more pins into the map he was working on. 

_“Sorry ‘bout that, was adjusting the cord,”_ Stan said. 

“It’s fine. Are you okay? I thought you couldn’t talk because you were resting,” Ford asked, worried. 

_“It’s nothing I can’t handle. Besides, Ma and Shermy woke me up with their yelling. But enough about me, how about you?”_ Stan said. 

Ford’s brows furrowed, slightly. Sometimes he wished that his brother wasn’t such a tough guy and would just rest when he needed too. “Well, first of all, Shermy loves the pencils you got him,” he said. 

_“Did he?”_ Stan asked, his voice warm. _“I should hope so, he was staring at them the whole day when we went to the art store. Didn’t even ask anyone to buy them, just stared.”_

Ford laughed .”So you bought them for him.”

 _“Of course I did! You should have seen him, Ford. Saddest eyes I’ve ever seen, I couldn’t **not** buy them for him.”_ Stan declared. 

“Only seven years old and he’s an art prodigy. Not to mention he has his big brother wrapped around his finger.” Ford teased. 

_“Hey! I’ll have you know, I would have bought those for him even if he was horrible. And I’m not the only one he has wrapped around his finger. I bet you’ve put up every single drawing he’s given to you and you haven’t taken down a single one,”_ Stan teased back.

Ford looked around his room. The wallpaper was barely visible through all the pictures he had posted. 

_“You said first of all. What’s the other news?”_ Stan asked. 

“I was awarded a grant for my own scientific research,” Ford said carefully. 

_“That’s great!”_ His brother yelled.

“Yes, well, I’m having.. trouble picking a field of research,” Ford mumbled, which wasn’t exactly a lie. The judgement that he got from his peers and professors often had him questioning his intended field of study.

 _“What? Why don’t you go into the sci-fi mystery weirdness you love?”_ Stan said, not knowing he hit the nail on the head.

Ford stayed silent, not knowing what to say. He stared at the map in front of him, the red pushpins bright against the washed out colors of the paper. 

_“Ford,”_ his brother said, soft and completely serious. _“Do it. Whatever it is, do it.”_

Ford put down the remaining pins in his hand and picked up a worn out textbook titled, Anomalous Phenomena. He flipped through the pages. Should he really pursue this field of study above all others? Was this really something he could dedicate his life to?

 _“I’m behind you the whole way, Ford.”_ Stan said. 

Ford smiled. Mind made-up, he put the book down and grabbed a red marker to circle the area which had a concentrated amount of pins. 

“Then I guess you’ll have to come visit me in Gravity Falls, Oregon,” Ford said brightly. 

_“...Where?”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Ramblings - I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter!
> 
> By the way, the timeline that I have made, the boys were born in 1952. Shermy was born in 1968. Currently, its 1975, the Stans are 23 and Shermy is maybe 7. This is about the time that computers were starting to become big and when space was still a pretty big deal. So I kinda imagined that maybe in a very prestigious school, people would wonder why someone as brilliant as Ford would study anomalies instead of the big things in technology. However, he still gets the grant because he's brilliant and he stands out for his unique field of study.


	6. Chapter 6

Ford set to work using the grant money to investigate the strange properties of Gravity Falls. 

The more he looked, the more abnormal phenomenons he saw. He began to keep journals on his findings. However, he couldn’t find out the beginnings of where everything began, so he wanted to build a portal to the source of it’s weirdness. 

He would need someone brilliant, someone who would be able to design something unworldly, someone whose mind wasn’t tied down to conventional sciences…

Ford realized that there was only one person he knew qualified to make this portal. He winced. He would have to ask Fiddleford for help.

The work he was doing in Gravity Falls was fascinating and utterly absorbing, resulting in a isolation of Ford’s own making. His work often brought him outside the cabin, making him miss calls and his new address caused problems for the post office. 

As a result, Ford wasn’t as in touch with his friends and family as he should have been in the last dozen or so months. He didn’t know if Fiddleford was still making those ‘personal computers,’ that he had wanted to. He didn’t know whether his mother and father were well. He didn’t know if Shermy was becoming a better artist. And he didn’t know Stan’s rank, something he always knew. He had always kept up with Stan’s boxing career.

Until now. 

Ford shook his head. He would have to do better in the future. For now, he would call Fiddleford about making that portal. After all, there wasn’t too much that could have happened with his old college buddy, right?

-000-

“You’re _married_!” Ford yelled into the phone.

 _“Divorced now, actually,”_ Fiddleford said nonchalantly. _“Don’t worry about not coming to the wedding, it wasn’t either of our ideas.”_

“And you have a _son_!” Ford exclaimed, clutching his head. Apparently a _lot_ could change in a over year!

 _“Yup, Tate McGucket. Cute as a button, which means he’s probably taking after Gina, thank goodness. I can show you pictures later,”_ Fiddleford continued. 

“A _baby_ ,” Ford hissed, disbelief coloring his voice. 

_“Yup. But about the project you mentioned, you say you’re trying to build a transuniversal polydimensional meta vortex? Well that’s mathematically feasible! I reckon,”_ Fiddleford said. _“I’ll discuss the new job with Gina and Tate, before I head over.”_

There was the sound of a receiver clicking. Then the dial tone sounded in Stanford’s ear. 

Still flabbergasted, Ford didn’t even notice that Fiddleford had hung up. After the moment of shock passed, he finally put the phone back on the hook and collapsed into a nearby chair. 

Mouth open and eyes staring aimlessly, Ford sat dumbfounded. He had missed his friend’s wedding, hell, he had missed his friend getting a divorce. And he had somehow missed out on the fact that Fiddleford had a child!

It was too much for Ford to take in. Had he really been so cut off from the world that he had missed out on so much of his friend’s, arguably one of his best friend’s, life?

Shakily, Ford finally stood up. He would have to sleep on this new information.

-000-

After sleeping on it, Ford had finally come to terms with what he had learned. He stared guiltily at the phone. While Fiddleford had not sounded angry from Ford’s aloofness, and had perhaps even understood it, Ford was worried that his family wouldn’t have the same reaction. 

What if.. he had missed something? 

Ford steeled himself, there was only one way to find out.

He picked up the phone and dialed the number before he could change his mind. The phone rang once, and was picked up, _“That’ll be two ninety-nine an hour,”_ Gigi Pines said.

“Heh. It’s me, Mom,” Ford said. Maybe things hadn’t changed too much?

His mother gasped. _“Stanford? It’s been so long! Why don’t you call more often, sweetie?”_ She asked. 

“I’m sorry, Ma.” Ford said sincerely. He really was sorry. He hadn’t realized how much he had missed the people he cared about until now. Just hearing his mother’s voice brought back warm memories of his family. 

_“Well, you should be. Not keeping in touch and going off to study in the woods. I thought I raised you better, Stanford Pines,”_ his mother said. 

Despite the lecture, Ford could feel a smile spreading across his face. This certainly wasn't the first, nor would it be the last time he would get chewed out by his mother. The thought was comforting. “I’m sorry again, Mom. It won’t happen-”

Ford was suddenly cut off by his mother coughing violently into the phone.

His smile disappeared. 

“Mom? Are you okay?” He asked, tentative and very worried. 

_“I’m fine, sweetheart,”_ she said, flippant. _“Must be because it’s late in the day.”_

“Late in the-” Ford looked to his watch. It was only two in the afternoon! Even on the east coast it would only be five. “Mom-”

 _“Mommy’s going to be taking an early night, sugar. I love you, mwah.”_ And she was gone. There was some rustling and someone else took up the phone.

_“Hello? This is Sherman Pines.”_

“Shermy, thank god, what’s wrong with Mom? Why was she coughing? Has she been to the doctor? What’s been going on-”

 _“Stanford.”_ Ford shut up. _“Why are you calling us?”_ His brother asked, deadly serious.

“Why? What do you…” Ford trailed off. “I wanted to call…”

There was a rush of static as Sherman sighed. _“No, I didn’t mean ta- it’s fine Ford. I was just wanted to make sure nothing was wrong with you. After all, you haven’t called in over.. a year.”_

Ford could feel the guilt from earlier, threatening to overwhelm him. In some ways this was worse than he had imagined, because it was actually happening. He cursed himself for being so self-absorbed in his research. “No, no, everything’s fine,” Ford tried to say reassuringly. “I, I realized I hadn’t been keeping in touch and…”

 _“And you decided to get in touch?”_ Shermy supplied helpfully.

“Yes,” Ford said.

 _“...Okay.”_ Ford let out a sigh of relief. _“I’m glad you called,”_ Shermy said. 

“Really? Why” Ford couldn’t help but ask.

 _“Does a brother have to have a reason for wanting to hear from family?”_ Sherman asked. 

Ford’s heart swelled. “No, he doesn’t.”

And so they talked. At first, it was awkward. It hadn’t been too long, but it had been long enough that Ford could recognize that Sherman was older and very mature for his age. That and Ford was probably out of practice with socializing with others. 

But after a bit, the conversation managed to flow. Shermy talked about his art and his writing, and how he was winning awards. Ford talked about his research and the strange things that happened in Gravity Falls. They talked about their family, and then they reached the topic of Stan. 

“So, how is Stan?” Ford asked. The conversation had lifted his mood and he imagined it would be nice reconnect with his other brother. 

_“Stan’s,”_ Shermy hesitated, _“Doing pretty swell. He and Dad are actually at the gym right now. They probably won’t be back for awhile. Stan’s got some really important matches lined up.”_

Ford chuckled. “I heard he’s undefeated.”

Shermy gave a bit of a forced chuckled. Ford didn’t notice. _“Uh, yeah. In fact, the press gave him a nickname. They call him, Stanley ‘Bloody Knuckles’ Pines.”_

“Wow. That sounds impressive,” Ford said. 

_“Yeah,”_ Shermy said quietly. 

They both trailed off into silence. Ford was imagining his twin as the boxing champion he was meant to be. And with a flashy nickname to boot, Stanley was probably proud of that one. 

_“Well, it’s getting late Ford,”_ Shermy said, breaking Ford out of his reverie. 

“Oh? Okay, um..”

 _“You should call more often, it was great catching up,”_ Shermy said. 

“Yes! I mean, of course. I’ll do my best to call more, Shermy,” Ford promised.

 _“I’ll hold you to that, Ford,”_ his brother said. 

-000-

Fiddleford moves to Gravity Falls and they work on the portal together. Ford thinks it’s one of the best ideas he’s had in awhile, because working with someone else is wonderful. He had forgotten what it was like to be able to share his ideas and be understood, and he thought Fiddleford felt the same. 

They became close friends again. Many sleepless nights were spent on the portal, but there were just as many nights, if not more, playing Dungeons, Dungeons, and More Dungeons, sharing a meal, and talking. 

All the while, Ford made sure to call home more often and he gave Shermy his new address. He began to receive packages and he treasured every one of them. 

However, he didn’t get to talk to Stan as much as he wanted to. His twin was incredibly busy preparing for his next match, apparently against someone of great renown. But Ford didn’t worry. He had faith that Stanley would win the match. After the match, they could reconnect. 

Two months after Ford had gotten back in touch with Sherman, Stanley Pines won one of the most important boxing matches of his life. 

The day after his win, Stanley disappeared.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Ramblings - 
> 
> (Edited timeline) Quick timeline thing, I don't have an exact date for the timeline, but I'm thinking almost two years have passed from the time that Ford has graduated/Ford is living in Gravity Falls/Ford has not gotten in touch with everyone. That makes the twins 28 and Shermy is about 11.


	7. Chapter 7

“No,” Ford sighed. “I haven’t heard from him either.”

Fiddleford looked at Ford, worried. Ford tried to give his friend a reassuring smile, but he couldn’t bring himself to pretend that he was okay. 

Stanley had disappeared. Apparently, this wasn’t uncommon behavior for Stan, and it was quite normal for him to leave for a few days after he had finished a match. In fact, he had earned a bit of a reputation with his victory partying. There were nights where he would disappear, be spotted states away, then he would come back and train like normal. The only evidence of his trips would be the phone calls home and questionable pictures taken from paparazzi. 

Ford had felt a frisson of anger when he had first heard of this. Some was directed at Stan and Shermy for not telling him, but most of the anger he directed towards himself for not knowing. He really had been cut off from his family for far too long. 

Shermy had explained that Stanley hadn’t returned home for nearly two weeks and he hadn’t called, which was unheard of. Shermy had called hoping that Ford might have heard from him, but there was no luck there. 

_“Not a word?”_ Shermy asked.

“I’m sorry, Sherman,” Ford said.

 _“Well, if you hear anything, call me?”_ His brother sighed. Ford’s heart clenched at how painfully young his baby brother sounded. Sometimes Ford forgot that Sherman was only eleven, but in a situation like this his age really showed.

“Of course, I promise.” Ford said, trying to sound as reassuring as possible. He wasn't very successful. 

They hung up.

Ford pressed a hand against his heart, and bent over as if the weight of his guilt was actually on his shoulders. He was suddenly aching all over, as if the loss of his twin was taking a toll on his own body. 

Fiddleford gently pried Ford away from the phone and led him to the kitchen table. He sat Ford down and placed a hot mug of coffee into his hands. Ford automatically took a sip and felt better. The beverage warmed him and he managed to sit up and take another swallow.

“What happened?” Fiddleford asked gently.

“Stanley, he’s, he’s missing,” Ford said. 

Fiddleford nodded and took a sip of his own drink. Ford mirrored the action. 

“I don’t know what to do,” Ford admitted. 

“What do you want to do?” Fiddleford replied.

Ford paused to take another drink. It was obvious what he wanted to do, “I want to go find Stanley.”

Fiddleford nodded again. 

Stanford stared at his friend wondering when the next question would come. The silence stretched and Fiddleford kept calmly drinking his coffee. Ford asked the question for him, “Aren’t you going to ask me why?”

Fiddleford just gave him a look. It wasn’t often that he was treated to this particular look. This look told him that Fiddleford thought that the answer was obvious, but Ford made things too complicated to see the answer that was right in front of him.

“Stanford, if you want to go find your twin, then you should. In fact, I think you should. You should keep your family close, it’s one of the most precious things you can have,” Fiddleford said, but he wasn’t finished yet. “Listen, I know the reason why you’re not sure if you should do this is because you haven’t been very close to Stanley in a long time, but from what you’ve told me, he’ll forgive you.”

“Really?” Ford croaked out. 

Because it was true. If it had been years ago, when they were both still living together, Ford wouldn’t have hesitated to go find his brother. However, it had been quite awhile, and-. 

Well, Ford wasn’t too sure if he still knew his twin brother anymore. 

“You could find him for Shermy’s sake,” Fiddleford gently suggested. 

That, more than anything, strengthened Ford’s resolve. If he wasn’t doing it for himself, he would at least find Stan for Shermy (and how horrible was that, wanting to see Stan for his own selfish desires and not out of kindness for Shermy or the rest of the family). 

“Thanks, Fiddleford,” Ford finally said. 

“Anytime,” Fiddleford replied. 

-000-

Later that night, Stanford gathered up the materials necessary to locate his brother. His time at Gravity Falls had not only showed him the abnormalities that existed, but that magic also existed in the world. While not everything was true to myth and most magic was useless anywhere outside of Gravity Falls, there were a few spells that could prove useful in his search. He gathered a few pictures of Stan, both photographs and sketches, and placed them in the middle of a spell circle he had prepared. The candles, map, and dowsing chain were also already set-up. 

The rest was up to Stanford. 

Ford spread the map out. Once that was done, he grabbed the dowsing chain with one hand and a knife in the other. He carefully evened out his breathing and cleared his mind. 

Slowly, he allowed the thought of Stanley break the surface of his thoughts. He made sure to concentrate on the memories of only Stanley. He thought of his brother’s image, the way the muscles of his arms bunched up when they were about to hit someone, and the way he crookedly smiled when he was happy. He thought of his laugh and his gruff, but kind voice. He thought about all the qualities that made up his brother, his twin, his Stanley. 

Chanting the spell, he made the first cut. 

Blood dripped down his arm and onto the chain, but did not fall onto the map. Instead, it coalesced onto the tip of the pendulum, then gently pulled. Ford let the weight direct him to where his brother should be located. Eventually, it stopped. 

Ford blinked at the destination.

What was Stanley doing in Mexico?

-000-

A plane ride and a few taxis later, Stanford found himself in a rather.. questionable part of Mexico. He tugged the collar of this trenchcoat higher and his sleeve lower. He wasn’t exactly inconspicuous, but he thought the coat was better than just his button-up and tie. Plus he had to hide the dowsing chain that was still attached to his arm. Ford had gotten an address, but it would do no good if Stanley moved. 

He silently made his way through the streets, wondering if he should at least wait until morning to continue his searching. 

The chain gently tugged at his arm. 

Ford forged on.

He had been staking out the building where he was sure Stanley was in, trying to blend in, when a suspicious group of men passed by him. He casually followed behind them and was ushered into the decrepit building. They were moved deep into the building, down some stairs, and into.. what looked like an underground fighting and gambling den. The room was obviously designed to be an arena and in the middle held a cage. 

Apparently, Ford had just made it for a highly anticipated match if the cheers around him were any indication. 

The chain tightened around his arm. 

One fighter entered the ring. He was possibly one of the tallest men Ford had ever seen with the muscles to match. He was the fan favorite, as his name was drowned out by the sounds of the cheers. 

Then the other fighter entered the ring. This fighter was shorter, a tad less muscular, but his body was no less impressive. He also had a rather intimidating array of scars, a goatee, an eyepatch, and a mullet pulled back in a ponytail of all things. The announcer introduced him as “Andrew ‘8ball’ Alcatraaaaaz!”

The crowd cheered. 

Stanford didn’t move and the chain continued to tighten almost painfully around his arm. 

It was Stanley. 

-000-

Despite his changed appearance, Ford could clearly tell the other fighter was his brother. Someone bumped into him and he quickly sat down. The match was starting. Ford would have to confront his brother afterwards. 

In the mean time, Ford examined his brother. While the pictures and drawing his family had sent showed Ford that Stanley had changed, seeing him person made him finally understand it. All his baby fat was gone, and the slight pudge that he had in the middle was also gone. Stan bared his teeth as his opponent and Ford immediately noticed that his brother’s face had aged. He no longer was the pimply faced youth that he had once lived with.

The two fighters circled one another, staring each other down. Both fighters were shirtless, and their muscles glinted under the spotlight. 

Suddenly, Stan threw himself forward and smashed a fist into the other man’s nose. The crowd roared and Ford could only hope that that was enough to end the fight. 

It wasn’t and the opponent quickly recovered. He took the chance to grab Stanley, Stan smacked at the other man’s arm, but he didn’t let go and he threw Stan into the side of the cage. Stan smacked into the metal so hard that there were indents in his skin after the encounter. Stan stood up quickly and tried to lay a flurry of blows onto his opponent. The other man took it and tried to grab Stan again. Stan jumped away. 

They continued this way for awhile. Stan would manage to land a blow and then he would have to dodge out of the way of the giant’s grasp. 

Ford chewed his lip nervously. The other opponent was almost playing with Stanley. Everyone knew that if Stan was caught, he would be done for. Ford was scared to see what would happen if that occurred. He was tempted to jump in, stop the fight and pull Stanley away, but he was frozen in place. Damned to watch the stupid match instead of stopping it. 

The crowd jumped to their feet and Ford followed. In the time that Ford was panicking, something had changed. What was happening now?

He swallowed. 

The behemoth had finally caught Stanley. 

The fighter tugged at Stan and his brother stumbled forward onto his knees. The opponent chuckled and began to smack his brother around while he was still on the ground. After a few good hits, he stopped and pulled Stan to his feet.

Suddenly, Stan reared back and slammed a fist into the man’s chin. He stumbled, and that was the chance that Stanley was looking for. Freeing his other hand, Stanley began to wail on the other man. He landed blow after blow on the man’s head, not even stopping until the other man had collapsed. 

After a while, Stan took a step back. The man in front of him was bloody, beat-up, but still breathing. His opponent was in no condition to get up. Stan raised a hand in victory and the crowd went wild.

The announcer declared ‘8-Ball’ the winner and Stan left the cage as the crowd cheered his name. At the same time, Ford slipped out of his seat, unnoticed. 

-000-

Ford wasn’t about to take the chance of encountering someone he shouldn’t, so he stood outside away from the building and waited. His patience was rewarded when the dowsing chain tugged him in the direction of the parking lot. There was only one man there and it was clearly Stanley, walking over to what appeared to be the Stanley Mobile. 

Ford smiled and made his way over. 

He silently approached Stanley, unwilling to call out his brother just yet. This whole time he had been worried sick over finding him, but now that Ford actually had the chance to talk to his twin, he was at a loss. What should he say? 

However, the decision was taken out of his hands. When Ford had come close enough, Stan took the chance to slam him into the side of the car. Disorientated, Ford found his face pressed up against the car and his arms behind his back. 

“Why are you following me?” Stan growled. 

“Stanley,” Ford coughed out. “It’s me, Ford.”

The pressure holding his arms disappeared. “Stanford?”

Ford turned around and dusted himself off, “Yes, well, hello to you too.”

“Sorry,” Stan said with a sheepish smile. “This isn’t the best part of the town.”

Despite the initial greeting, Ford could feel himself relaxing. There was the Stan he knew. Past the scars and the goatee, was his twin brother. “No, I’m the one that should be sorry. I shouldn’t have sneaked up on you,” Ford admitted. 

“So…” Stan trailed off awkwardly. Then he went to stand next to Ford, casually leaning against his car. He looked straight ahead, then dramatically turned his head to look at Ford. “What’s a guy like you doing in a place like this?” Stan said in a thick Jersey accent.

Ford let a smile curl on his lips. His brother was such a goofball. “I was looking for you,” he answered honestly. 

“Really?” Stan said, completely shocked. 

Ford’s smile drooped and he felt a stab of guilt at his brother’s reaction. Maybe he had been kidding himself when he thought nothing was different. Things had changed and they didn’t have the same relationship they used to. However, that was something Ford was going to fix.

He let himself say the first thing to come to mind. “I, ah, saw your match. You were strong, Champ.”

Stan flinched. “Yeah, my fights are always like that,” Stan said a bit suspiciously. Ford’s spirits fell a little bit more at Stan’s tone. Talking wasn’t Ford’s strong suit.

Ford chuckled awkwardly. “Hey, you remember when-”

“Stanford, what are you doing here?” Stanley interrupted. 

Ford fell silent. Trust Stanley to cut through all the bullshit and go straight to the meat of the issue. One that Ford wasn’t too sure of himself. He opened his mouth, but no sound came out. What words could describe everything that Ford wanted to tell Stan? There were none. 

Suddenly, Stan grabbed Ford’s forearm. Ford winced. Unfortunately it was the one with the dowsing chain. Stan gave Ford a weird look, but then shoved his brother behind him. “Get in the car,” Stan said quietly. 

“Wha-” Ford looked around to see that the two of them were now surrounded by a few unsavory looking characters. 

“I can take em,” Stan said. “Just sit in the car.”

“Stanley-”

“Sit your ass in the car, Stanford," Stan said again, and shoved a duffel bag into his brother's arms. 

The men advanced and Stan put his arms up into a boxing stance. Ford stared at his twin’s back, then walked in front of Stan. 

"Ford-" 

Ford slapped a hand on his brother's forehead. Then yelled, _"IVOK LUMO LITUS!”_

There was a blast of light that knocked everyone, but the brother’s off their feet. 

_“Ford!”_ Stan said flabbergasted.

“If we’re going to get away, it has to be now. Get in the car,” Ford commanded. 

They jumped into the car and sped away into the night. 

After Stan made sure no one was following them, he turned to his brother, “What the hell was that Ford?”

Ford coughed. “Well, let’s just say I haven’t told you everything about my studies in Gravity Falls.”

“That’s because you haven’t told me anything,” Stan grumbled softly.

“It looks like you haven’t told me about everything either, Stanley,” Ford retorted. 

Stan tensed and he wrapped his fingers tighter around the steering wheel. Ford crossed his arms and turned away with a huff. They traveled in silence, both too stubborn to apologize. 

“Where are we heading?” Ford said, breaking the silence. 

“I’m bringing you back to California. That stunt you pulled back there? You’re going to have a lot of people after your tail,” Stan replied.

“Wait, you’re going to leave me at the Mexican border?” Ford asked, incredulous.

Stan frowned. “Hey-”

“No, that’s not, I’m not angry,” Ford quickly interrupted. Talking to his brother was harder than he remembered. “But what about you? You were about to beat those guys up.”

“I’ll be fine,” Stan grunted. “It’s not the first time something like this has happened.”

That wasn’t very reassuring to Ford, but he decided not to argue (at least not right now). Stan kept his eyes firmly on the road and Ford took the chance to examine his brother up close. He certainly was changed. Between the muscles, the eyepatch, and everything else, his brother did look like a different person. 

And he was acting like one too. What happened to the Stan he knew, who was maybe a bit rough around the edges, but was someone incredibly loyal to his family. Why would he have left home? Why was he in Mexico? What was with the mullet?

In the past, Stanford wouldn’t have hesitated to ask Stan these questions. But they weren’t in the past anymore, and they weren’t the same two brother’s that had promised to go treasure hunting together. 

Ford paused. There was a memory that seemed like it came from a lifetime ago. He wondered what had happened to the Stan O’ War. 

It was another question that he couldn’t ask. 

However, whatever distance was between them, Ford was willing to try and fix it. 

“Stan?”

“Yeah?”

“Why don’t you stay with me?” Ford asked, tentative.

“What?” Stan glanced at his brother.

“I- don’t know what’s going on, but.. if you need a place to stay, you can always stay with me,” Ford offered. “I live in a small town, in the middle of the woods-”

“I- I get it. And yeah.. lying low sounds good right now,” Stan accepted. 

Ford smiled. Maybe it was only a small victory, but he was glad that Stan trusted him enough to stay with him at a troubling time. Then Ford remembered where he lived.

“Oh, but I should warn you, that there are some strange things in Gravity Falls,” Ford added.

“Weirder than what you did back there?” Stan asked. 

“Even weirder,” Ford admitted. 

“Pfft. I’ll believe it when I see it, Poindexter,” Stan said.

Ford chuckled, warmed at hearing one of his old nicknames. “Oh, you will.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Ramblings - 
> 
> I really enjoyed writing this chapter and I hope you guys enjoyed reading it. I enjoy writing about the Stans' relationship, romantic or not. 
> 
> (By the way the spell is just an amalgam of words that sounded alright for the spell. Hopefully I won't have to write more in the future.)


	8. Chapter 8

Ford had worried that things would be awkward between him and Stan, but surprisingly (or maybe not surprisingly) they easily fell into their old routines. They talked about everything. (However, Ford was careful to avoid any potentially sensitive subjects.) Stan talked about Shermy and how he was a prodigy. Ford told Stan about Fiddleford and their research together. Stan sometimes gave Ford a blow-by-blow of one of his matches. And occasionally, when Stan was in the mood, Ford could tell him about some of the DDandMD campaigns that he had run. 

It felt good. While they and their relationship were not the same anymore, Ford felt that the bond that they shared still existed. It had been buried by obligations and the long distance, but now their enforced closeness was helping to unearth that old connection. 

The road trip was almost like a vacation for Ford. It had been a long time since Ford had taken a break from research and it looked like Stanley needed a break from his routine too. They drove along the beautiful California coast with the top of the car down and the wind blowing through their hair. 

They slowly grew more comfortable with each other. 

One day, Ford was even courageous enough to ask about Stan’s new look.

“Oh, this?” Stan gestured to his face. “Grab my wallet.”

Ford fished Stan’s wallet out of his pocket so his twin wouldn’t have to take his hands off the wheel. He opened it curiously and his eyebrows flew up at Stan’s driver’s license. 

“Andrew ‘8Ball’ Alcatraz? You have a fake ID for this character?” Ford laughed.

Stan chuckled. “Yeah. Until I can shave off the goatee, I should use that license in case we get pulled over.”

Ford glanced at the picture then back at Stan. “The eyepatch is on the wrong side,” he said.

“What? Is it? Damn it,” Stan cursed. “Well, I can’t switch it now.”

“Why don’t you shave at our next stop?” Ford suggested. 

“Good idea. Do you think you can get my mullet?” Stan asked. 

Ford sighed in audible relief. “Thank god, I thought you liked the mullet.”

“Don’t insult me like that, who the hell keeps their hair in a mullet nowadays?” Stan said. 

They both laughed. 

-000-

Stan drove to a beach with a public restroom. Luckily, the sun was rising and they had the place to themselves. Stan sat near the car, carefully shaving off his facial hair, while Ford sheared off the extra hair on Stan’s head and finished around the same time. Stan passed his shaving tools to Ford for his use, then went to the showers to go rinse off the extra hair. When Ford was done, Stan was coming back. 

Stan looked good. Great, even. With the extra hair, the fake scars, and the eyepatch gone, his brother looked like the Stanley from his memories. 

Finished with their tasks, they headed back to the car. 

“I can take over with driving,” Ford offered, walking over to the driver’s side. 

“Sounds good,” Stan agreed. He tossed his brother the keys. “But since we’re here already, you wanna watch the rest of the sunrise?”

The proposal both surprised and delighted Ford. That was another thing that he hadn’t done (purposefully) since he was a kid. He accepted. They sat in the car, roof open, allowing the smells and the sound of the sea surround them. As the world got brighter, Ford was able to see the ships in the water. He smiled.

“Hey, whatever happened to the old Stan O’ War, anyways?” Ford asked. 

“It’s pretty much finished,” Stan said without fanfare. “Shermy and I take it out on occasion.”

“Well, I’m glad it’s being put to good use then,” Ford said happily. 

Stanley didn’t reply and they continued to watch the sunrise in silence. 

-000-

After a week of travel, they finally pulled up to Ford’s home in the dead of the night. Stan took the chance to stretch and pop his back, while Ford helped get his bags. 

“Now, it’s going to be a bit dusty,” Ford said as he unlocked the front door, “But I have an extra room-” he paused when he flicked on the lights. 

There were gnomes everywhere. 

“What the hell!” Stan exclaimed, jumping back. 

Ford dropped the bags. “They’re just gnomes, Stan. They must be here to-”

But before Ford could finish, thee gnomes started launching themselves at the twins. They tried to crawl up their clothes, but Stan wasn’t about to let that happen. He grabbed the gnomes off of himself and his brother, punted any of them that got close, and snarled. 

Knowing that they were defeated, the gnomes began to run away through the open front door. 

“What were those?” Stan asked as he shut the door. 

“Gnomes,” Ford replied absently. He went to his main research room and checked the inventory. Hopefully they hadn’t messed with anything…

“Okay… I’m going to pretend that means something to me. Why were they- woah, nerd central,” Stan said as he stepped into the room. He stared unabashedly at the strange contraptions and samples in the room. Ford glanced fondly at his brother.

“Believe the supernatural now, Stanley?” Ford teased.

“Uh,” Stan continued to stare, wide-eyed at the machines and creatures. “You weren’t kidding when you said that stuff was weird out here.”

Ford chuckled. “Truth be told, the gnomes are pretty tame compared to some of the other things in the woods. Speaking of which, I should check the wards I’ve set up.”

“The what?” Stan said, confused. 

“I have some.. security. It stops some of the more dangerous of things from coming in and it stops people from wandering nearby,” Ford said. 

“Wow, uh, I guess I picked the right place to stay then,” Stan said. 

“Don’t worry, no one’s going to disturb us out here,” Ford said reassuringly. 

Stanley gave Ford a bright smile. “Thank, Sixer.”

Ford returned the smile. He was extremely glad he had offered for Stan to stay. Whatever had happened had obviously taken a toll on his brother. Hopefully staying here at his home would help Stan recover. 

“Did you want to come with me?” Ford offered.

“Maybe some other time,” Stan said. “I can get started on dinner.”

Ford couldn’t help but let out a laugh. “You cook?”

“Yup,” Stan said proudly. “Shermy loves my food.”

Oh, Ford had to experience this for himself. “If you can scrounge something from what’s left in the fridge, then be guest.”

“Okay, you be careful out there, Poindexter. And when you come back, you’ll have one of the best meals of your life,” Stan said with a flourish. 

Ford laughed. “Okay.”

-000-

Ford went out to do a thorough perimeter check. There weren’t many things that mess with or pass the wards, only the really dangerous and the completely harmless. He went around, checking each ward and finally found the problem. There was a rune in the ground that had been messed with, probably by an animal. He redrew the sigil and went to check the rest of them. 

The simple task let Ford’s mind wander onto other subjects. Tomorrow he would have to call Fiddleford and tell him that his brother was staying. Then he would have to restock the fridge and the pantry. Not to mention he would have to grab more food that Stan would like to eat. 

Despite the extra work needed in keeping Stan in Gravity Falls, Ford looked forward to having Stan stay with him. It would be nice having someone else with them while he worked. Ford had to admit that at times it did get lonely living up in the woods by himself. 

Then his mind turned to other more complicated matters. 

What was he supposed to say to Shermy?

In the most recent of months, they had started talking more frequently over the phone. He was due a call from his younger brother any day now. And there was the promise that Ford had made. Ford did say he would tell Shermy about any news he discovered about Stanley, but… 

Stanley had been so relieved when Ford had offered him a place to rest and recover. Not that Shermy didn’t have Stan’s health in mind, but Ford wasn’t too sure if he could talk to Shermy without talking to Stan first. But what if Stanley didn’t want to tell his brother…

Would talking to one brother first, betray the trust of the other? Ford mulled over the conundrum in his head.

Ford finished checking the perimeter and began to head back. As he approached home, a shadowy figure jumped out in front of him. 

He jumped back ready to take the creature on, when it let out a soft ‘bahh.’ Upon a second examination, Ford realized that the figure in front of him was a baby goat munching on the grass. It’s strange eyes stared at him before turning to graze on another part of the lawn. 

That explained the ruined sigil. At least it was only something harmless that had passed through the wards. And now that he thought about it, the gnomes had probably come in to rescue Schmebulock Senior. They wouldn’t have had any negative intent towards him, allowing them passage across the ward. 

Perhaps he would have to look into changing the wards. 

Ford mulled over the idea, until he crossed through the front door. He was greeted by a delightful aroma and his stomach growled in anticipation. 

Ford decided he could save the more serious talk for another time. 

-000-

The next day, Ford spent the whole day showing Stan around the house and the woods. While he could only show Stan some of the more manageable anomalies, Stan still stared at everything dumbfounded. However, after the shock passed, instead of the negative reaction Ford anticipated (like the ridicule from his classmates, or the shock and disbelief and initial outright denial from Fiddleford), Stan grinned.

He said, “If anyone was going to make these discoveries, it was going to be you, Sixer.”

The statement made Ford cheeks heat up and he grinned back.

After a day of exploring, they trampled back into the house. Stan was going to prepare dinner, while Stanford-

_Ring! Ring!_

-Would go answer the phone.

“Hello? This is Stanford speaking.” 

_“Hey Ford.”_

Ford almost dropped the phone. “Shermy!” He chuckled nervously, “How have you been?” Ford said, glanced at the kitchen. He still hadn’t talked to Stan about what to tell the family. More specifically, what was Ford supposed to tell Shermy?

 _“I’ve been good. School’s been pretty easy, so I’ve taken to repainting the boat,”_ Shermy said.

“Oh? When you have the chance, you should send me a sketch of it,” Ford said, trying to sound casual.

 _“That’s a good idea. I'll’ make sure to include a sketch in the next care package we send you,”_ Ford made a sound of acknowledgement and thanks. _“By the way, did Stan-”_

This time, Ford really did drop the receiver. He cursed softly, wishing he wasn’t in this dilemma. He bent down to retrieve the fallen phone, but someone else beat him to the punch.

“Hey Shermy,” Stan said casually, as if this was a regular occurrence. As if he hadn’t been missing from Shermy’s life for over three weeks with no explanation.

Ford stared as Stan nodded to whatever Shermy was saying. 

Stan sighed. “Yeah, I’m sorry kid. You know-” Stan was cut off, and he started nodding again. Ford raised an eyebrow at his brother and crossed his arms. Stan made a ‘not now’ gesture and continued the conversation. “Yeah, I imagine that they’re- yeah, yeah.”

The twins stood in silence: Stan listening to the phone, with Ford waiting on the outcome of the conversation.

“I get it, Shermy. Thanks a lot bud,” Stan said, then passed the phone to Ford. He walked off to the kitchen, leaving Ford alone.

“Hello?” Ford said tentatively into the speaker.

 _“So you’re okay with Stan staying with you for awhile?”_ Shermy asked.

“Yes, of course,” Ford replied.

 _“Good.. that’s good. Thanks, Ford,”_ Shermy said. _“I have to get to sleep, but I’ll call later?”_

“You can call back anytime. Uh, goodnight Shermy,” Ford said.

 _“Goodnight Ford,”_ and with that, Shermy hung up.

Ford slowly put the receiver down. He stared at the phone, brows furrowed, then glanced at the kitchen, where Stan was singing something terribly off-tune. He wondered what their conversation was about...

Ford shook his head. It wasn’t his business. He went to the kitchen to help his brother out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Ramblings - Thanks for all the comments! They made me smile and it really makes it worth posting my work. Special thanks to Mozzarella for the fic-rec.


	9. Chapter 9

Ford introduced Fiddleford to Stan (“You’re a Ford too?” “Well you’re also a Stan.” “Good point.”), and after their first meeting, they got along surprisingly well. After that was taken care of, Ford had thought that the days would continue as they had before. 

But once again, he was wrong. Stanley was a very welcome addition to their group. He would take care of the meals and the chores around the house, something Ford often neglected. Stan also helped with the heavy lifting for Ford and Fiddleford’s work and he often spent time in the portal room with the two, keeping them company. 

When they weren’t working, the three of them would enjoy a movie, a meal, a romp through the woods, or a DDandMD session. While Stan often grumbled and complained about having to play, Fiddleford and Ford knew that he secretly enjoyed the game. They could tell from the enthusiastic way Stan always wanted his actions to result in a dice roll. 

Surprisingly, at least to Ford, Fiddleford and Stan would willingly spend time with each other. They would often talk about various subjects Ford wasn’t particularly interested in (cooking, music, pop culture). And Ford had even caught the sight of Fiddleford sitting on his brother’s back while Stan did push-ups. 

The first time he had seen them, Fiddleford sitting cross legged and nonchalantly reading his notes while Stan did his workout, Ford had been.. surprised. It had been a long time since he had seen Stan so comfortable with anyone, since.. Shermy, or Carla. 

Ford was.. glad. Yes, he was happy that his best friend and twin were getting along. 

As for when he was alone with Stan, well, it felt like old times. Although they didn’t become the sailing treasure hunters Stan used to talk about, they were an unstoppable duo of adventurers. Or, a trio if Fiddleford was with them. 

It was a dream come true.

-000-

One day, when Stan was upstairs and Fiddleford and Ford were working alone, Fiddleford brought up an unexpected topic. 

“Stanley? What about my brother?” Ford asked, a little distracted. He was working on one of the circuit panels in the control room. Even with Fiddleford, the work was still going excruciatingly slow. There were so many parts to design and make, not to mention organize. The wires alone were going to be hell to keep track of.

“Oh, just…” Fiddleford trailed off awkwardly. Ford didn’t notice and Fiddleford was able to screw up the courage to continue. “Stanford, did you ever notice.. that your brother happens to work out a lot?”

“He’s a professional boxer,” Ford replied absently. 

“Mhmm. And why is he staying here then?” Fiddleford continued. 

“I think he was getting pretty overwhelmed with his publicity. His last victory made him quite famous,” Ford said, his attention still focused on his work and not the conversation. 

Fiddleford stared at Stanford and sighed. He rubbed the back of his neck and said, “What about his, you know, habits?” 

Now that got Ford’s attention. He stopped and pulled out of the control panel to stare at Fiddleford. Was his friend really suggesting what he thought he was suggesting? And Ford thought his twin and his friend were getting along. 

“Fiddleford,” he started, “If you’re talking about the reputation the press has made for him.. I mean you’ve spent enough time with Stanley, you know it’s wrong-”

“No!” Fiddleford interrupted. “No! That’s not at all what I mean, Stanford. It’s just.. I think you need to watch Stan a little more closely, that’s all. Watch him sometimes? I mean, you did say that you found him in a Mexican underground fighting arena? Why does a famous boxer like him go there?”

Ford scowled at his friend. 

Fiddleford sighed again, “Look.. I didn’t want to say anything…”

“What didn’t you want to say, Fiddleford?” Stanley said, crossing his arms. 

“I think.. that your brother may be injured,” Fiddleford admitted, guiltily. 

“What?” Ford exclaimed. 

“Stan didn’t tell me anything, but that’s the impression I have. If he didn’t tell you, it’s really not my place to say anything,” Fiddleford said. 

Ford deflated. Here he was worried that Fiddleford.. But no, Fiddleford was only worried about his brother’s health. How could he doubt that Fiddleford had anything but the Stan and Ford’s best interests in mind? Sometimes Ford wondered what he did to deserve such an amazing friend. 

However, it seemed a little strange that Fiddleford would notice that Stan was hurt when Ford didn’t notice anything wrong. 

“How is he hurt?” Ford asked. 

“Er, well, I’m not doctor, but his knuckles are quite damaged. I think they get sore on occasion?”

“His knuckles…” Ford mumbled. Now that he thought about it, Stan’s fists were pretty beat up. Ford was more used to the sight of them than Fiddleford, his brother had earned quite a few of them in their younger years. Many of them were earned through some of their more childish adventures, but Ford knew that some were earned through some of Stan’s out-of-ring fights. 

Currently, Stan’s fists were even more busted up than before. They were covered in new scars that boxing didn’t quite explain. Stan had waved Ford off, telling him that they were left over from training and the occasional bar fight. But there were still so many...

“Maybe,” Fiddleford continued, “He didn't want to tell you that he hurt himself, because he didn’t want to worry you. You said he was brawling, bare fisticuffs in Mexico?”

Repeated like that, Ford could see why Fiddleford jumped to conclusions. And he wasn’t even there to see Stan beat someone up, bare handed. Maybe Stan really was injured and he hadn’t noticed. He slumped, feeling guilty.

“Yes,” Ford said softly. “There’s a possibility that Stan wouldn’t tell me if he thought he might worry me, the Knucklehead. He would take a blow to the head and tell me he was fine.”

“Imagine that,” Ford said dryly. 

He would have to talk to Stanley about this later. “Thank you, Fiddleford. For telling me.”

“You’re welcome, Stanford,” Fiddleford said.

Later that day, after Fiddleford had left, Ford had confronted his brother about his knuckles. Stan had blinked at him, then laughed. Stan had then told him that ‘of course his knuckles would get sore if he wasn’t wearing any protection.’ And that if Ford was so worried about ‘his precious widdle hands,’ Stan would make sure to wrap them before he did any more boxing training. 

Ford had pouted, annoyed that such a simple thing could have stopped Fiddleford and him from worrying. However, he was happy that it was such a minor issue that could be quickly put to rest. 

-000-

The summer days were hot in Gravity Falls, and this summer seemed to be especially hot. Fiddleford and Ford emerged from the house, the conditions too hot to continue working. Walking outside, they would have been greeted by the sight of a shirtless Stanley, chopping wood, but they had been blinded by the sun. Ford squinted in the sunlight and Fiddleford actually hissed. 

Upon seeing their reactions, Stan threw his head back and laughed. “What’s wrong, nerds? Your delicate eyes to weak for the sun?” He guffawed. 

“Stanley, you shouldn’t be in the sun when it’s this hot,” Ford said, still squinting. 

“At the very least, stay hydrated,” Fiddleford added. 

“Aw, Fidds, aren’t you Southerners used to this sort of heat?” Stan teased. 

Fiddleford rolled his eyes. 

“Dehydration and sunstroke aren’t jokes, Stan. You should come inside and rest for awhile,” Ford lectured. 

Stan grumbled something about ‘prissy scientists,’ but he put his axe down and joined the two in the shade. He was then struck by an amazing idea. 

“I have an idea! Why don’t we go to the river nearby?” Stan suggested with a big grin. “It’s a perfect day to go swimming.”

Ford wiped at his brow, “I don’t think that’s a good idea. We usually prepare first before going out.”

“Aw, come on, Ford. Don’t be such a spoilsport,” Stan groaned. “Tell him, Fidds.”

“Normally, I wouldn’t agree with Stan-”

“Hey!”

“-But, the house is way too hot, we could get heat stroke,” Fiddleford finished. 

“Yeah!” Stan agreed. “Besides, it’s probably too hot for the creatures too.”

Ford could feel the perspiration gather on his back and on his brow. Perhaps it would be a good idea to take a break. “Alright, let’s go to the river,” he sighed. 

“Sweet!” Stan exclaimed. “I’ll grab us some Pitt Cola.” He gave the two scientists a sweaty hug before running inside. Fiddleford and Ford grumbled and swatted at Stanley, but they also smiled. Stanley’s enthusiasm could be infectious. 

As soon as Stan was back, they headed off.

-000-

They arrived at the river without delay and Stan immediately waded in, shirt and all. The water was wonderfully cool and he splashed the others. He laughed when they yelled, but they soon jumped in after him. The first few moments they spent horsing around and splashing each other. Between the heat and the rough housing, the three managed to tire quickly. Comfortable and drained, sat beside the river in the shade and sipped their drinks. 

Later, Stan excused himself to go relieve himself. Ford lectured him on making sure not to let it run off into the river and Stan told him he would make sure to go a ways away before taking a piss. Despite his grumbling, Stan did go far enough away that he wouldn’t be ‘ruining the delicate ecosystem,’ as Ford had put it. 

He was heading back, when he heard yelling. 

Assuming the worse, Stan broke off into a run. When he broke out of the forest and onto the bank of the river, his worst fears were confirmed. There was giant, menacing, and ugly creature standing over his brother and his friend. Fiddleford was on the ground shaking and Ford was in front of him, trying to shield Fiddleford from the creature’s gaze. 

Stan didn’t even hesitate and tackled the thing into the river. 

-000-

“Stanley!” Ford yelled.

Ford and Fiddleford had just been relaxing when they had heard a crashing through the woods. They had chuckled, thinking it had been Stanley stomping about.

They were wrong. Out from the trees had emerged a Gremloblin. 

They gasped. This wasn’t the first time they had dealt with one and Fiddleford still had nightmares about being exposed to the creature’s horrible gaze. Fiddleford had scrambled back, shaking. Ford tried to help his friend up, but Fiddleford was completely overrun with fear. His eyes were dilated and he twitched, helpless. Leaving his friend wasn’t an option and Stan put himself between the Gremloblin and Fiddleford. 

Then Stanley had come and tackled the beast into the river.

Now it was Ford’s turn to be frozen in fear.

Suddenly, the two burst out of the river and somehow the Gremloblin was even bigger and nastier than before. Irt snarled at Stan, but Stan just snarled back. He glanced back at his brother and Fiddleford. “I’ll keep it occupied,” Stan yelled, while he dodged a swipe. “Just look after Fiddleford!”

Fiddleford groaned. 

Their voices broke Ford out of his trance. Ford did a quick check-up on Fiddleford, but Fiddleford wasn’t responding. He was shaking horribly and was curled up in fetal position. Ford would have carried Fiddleford away, but he wasn’t strong enough. All Ford could do was hold Fiddleford in his arms while his brother fought the Gremloblin. 

Stanley wasn’t doing so well. 

He was breathing heavily and Ford could see the tell-tale signs of him getting tired. His clothes were ripped to shreds and he seemed to be bleeding from everywhere. Ford watched in horror as the monster swiped at his brother. Stan responded too slowly and got a cut above his eye. The blood gushed out, blinding him in one eye. Staggering, Stanley was unable to run from the monster’s grasp. It grabbed his brother and brought Stan to eye level. It’s eyes began to glow.

“Stanley!” Ford cried out in alarm. 

Stanley punched the Gremloblin in it’s ugly face. 

Flabbergasted, the monster let go of it’s prey and Stan took the chance to slug it across the jaw, then he slammed another fist into it’s face. The beast stumbled back, but took the chance to stare at Stanley again, eyes glowing. 

Stanley just snarled. 

It took a step back in surprise, then another, and it ran away. 

The area was suddenly quiet again. Stan’s ragged panting seemed inordinately loud. Ford stared at his brother’s back, mouth open.

Stanley started laughing hysterically. 

“That’s right!” He yelled. “You run away!”

He then began to limp back to Ford and Fiddleford. “You guys, okay?” Stan asked. 

Suddenly, Fiddleford grabbed Stan, yanking him onto his knees. The twins flinched in surprise. “Are we okay?” Fiddleford gasped out, clutching desperately onto Stan’s shirt. “It looked straight into your eyes! Are you okay!” 

“I’m fine, Fidds!” Stanley said, alarmed. “I’ve had worse fights.” 

Fiddleford’s hands fluttered over Stan’s face. Stan tried to smile reassuringly, but his teeth were covered in blood. “Well, as long as you’re,” Fiddleford swallowed, “Fine.”

Stan took one of his friend’s hands and gently squeezed it. “I’m fine,” he said again.

Fiddleford stared at Stan’s face. After a moment, he gave a shaky smile back. Stan’s smile turned into a more honest grin and he helped Fiddleford to his feet. 

Stan turned to smile at his brother. Ford offered a small smile back. When Stan turned back to Fiddleford, Ford’s smile disappeared.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Ramblings - 
> 
> Thanks again for the comments! I hope you guys liked this chapter, I really enjoyed having the chance to write something that was Mystery Trio-esque.


	10. Chapter 10

The three of the stumbled back to the house, tired and utterly spent. The events of the day were finally catching up to them. When they were inside, Fiddleford told the twins to go ahead.

“I need to call Gina and Tate right now, that’s the best way I’ll recover,” Fiddleford said firmly. 

Stan looked like he was about to protest, but Ford managed to stop him. Ford gently tugged his brother to the kitchen, allowing Fiddleford some privacy. Stan went to the freezer to get a bag of frozen peas for his head and Ford grabbed the first aid kit. They soon fell into an old routine; Stan grumbled that Ford was fussing while Ford paid no attention to Stan’s whining and continued to patch him up. 

“Is Fiddleford going to be okay?” Stan asked softly. When they were quiet, they could just barely hear Fiddleford’s voice from the other room. Ford glanced towards the door.

“..After a few days, yes,” Ford replied. 

“Anything I can do to help?” Stan asked. 

Ford gave his brother a small smile. Stanley had already beaten up the problem and still wanted to do more. “Fiddleford won’t want any special treatment, but we’ll just have to pay close attention to him,” Ford answered. 

Stan nodded, but otherwise continued to sit still for his brother. Ford was silent as he tended to Stan’s various injuries. When he was finished, Ford began to run his hands through Stan’s hair to check for any head wounds he may have missed. Stan leaned into his hand. 

There were none, besides the cut his brother had received. Stan was still holding the bag of peas against that half of his face.

Still, there was a nagging suspicion Ford had…

“How’s your head?” Ford asked casually.

Stan waved him off. “It’s fine,” he grunted. 

“No brain damage? How many fingers am I holding up?” Ford stood in front of Stanley, and put his hand behind his back. He held his breath. 

“Is that a trick question?” Stan scoffed. “It’s six, Sixer. And none of that, the thumb isn’t a finger nonsense.” 

Ford let out a shaky breath. Stan was staring straight at him with his uncovered eye and _god, how had he not noticed before_.

He had to ask. He had to know. He didn’t _want_ to know, but Ford _had_ to know. By knowing, Ford could confirm whether or not he was right. Whether or not he hadn’t noticed such a crucial thing about his brother the whole time they were together. Whether or not Stanley didn’t trust Stanford with such a monumental piece of information. 

“Stanley. How long have been blind in that eye?” Ford asked. 

Stan clammed up. 

Then his expression relaxed and he tried giving his twin a reassuring smile, “Stanford, what are talking about?”

Ford felt his insides twist and he almost stumbled back in shock. It wasn’t denial, but from Stanley it was as close as he would get to a confession. 

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Ford demanded. 

“It’s, it’s nothing-” Stan stammered, smile gone. 

“It’s not nothing!” Ford yelled. Stan looked at his brother, shocked. Ford felt himself deflate at the sight. This wasn’t how he wanted to conversation to go. Hell, he didn’t want to have this conversation, but they had to. He had to. 

“It’s not nothing, Stanley.” Ford repeated. And when he said that, Stan looked.. a little lost. He had to turn and look away. How was he supposed to continue this conversation?

“Is everything, okay?” Fiddleford asked, voice faraway.

“Yeah! We were just leaving the kitchen, Fids!” Stan yelled back. As soon as Fiddleford made a noise of agreement, Stan stood up and grabbed Ford’s hand, leading him away from the kitchen. 

Ford let him. Yes, he was curious to see what Stan had planned next, but he was mostly tired. Tired from the river, tired from the Gremloblin, and tired of not being good enough for his family and friends. Apparently, even after reuniting with them, he could still be horribly out of touch.

How had he not noticed that his twin brother was blind in one eye? Not only that, Fiddleford had noticed something before him? 

And now that the secret was out, Stan was running a hand along the wall to help himself navigate. Ford stared guiltily at his brother's back. This whole time Ford had thought his brother was just clumsy when he ran into things, but now he knew it was from the lack of depth perception...

They reached Ford’s room and Stan shoved him towards the bed. “Sit,” he said. 

Understanding dawning, Ford climbed into the bed and sat with his back against the wall. He left the other half for Stanley, who was closing the door and shutting the curtains. The room was completely dark when Ford could feel Stanley’s weight settle onto the bed next to him. He waited for this brother to speak.

“Do you remember? When you made that promise to me, that you would make me into a great boxer?” His brother asked. 

Ford stayed silent, unwilling to interrupt. 

“I wanted that. I had been wanting a dream for myself for so long, something that wouldn’t hold you back, and this one had fallen into my lap. And you were by my side the whole time reaching it. When you finally had your dream college… Well, I knew I had to let you go,” Stan choked out the last part. 

Ford’s hands clenched. Here was something else that he had never realized. That the two of them had never talked about. That Ford hadn’t wanted to think about. 

“It wasn’t too bad when you left,” Stan continued. “I had Shermy and my fists to keep me busy. But, after awhile, I was falling apart without you.”

“I was the same,” Ford said, unable to stay silent any longer.

Stan scoffed. 

“No really,” Ford insisted. “I had my science, but science is a poor substitute for you, Stan.”

Stan gave a watery laugh. 

And the sound scared the living hell out of Stanford. It was one thing when Stan was twelve year-old snotty brat and crying, but now? The thought of his strong, older brother crying grabbed onto his heart and squeezed. Ford started groping around in the dark and managed to grab Stan’s hand. He tried to make it reassuring, tried to convey everything that he wanted to say, everything that he couldn’t say aloud, in that one action. 

Stan squeezed back. 

Ford smiled. He didn’t know whether or not he could convey his feelings through a touch, but somehow Stan did. His brother’s large, warm hands around his own, instantly made him feel better. It made him feel like this rift that was between them, the distance he hadn’t even realized, that it could be fixed, easily. That-

A low growl ruined the moment. 

Ford felt his face heat up and he was glad that Stan couldn’t see him. He couldn’t believe his stomach was interrupting the moment. 

Stan chuckled, which made Ford feel vaguely better about the situation. Maybe he wasn’t the best at verbalizing what needed to be said, but at least he could make his brother laugh. 

“I should start on dinner,” Stan suggested. 

“Sounds acceptable,” Ford agreed, glad that Stan was teasing him. “But let’s continue this conversation afterwards?”

Stan squeezed his hand again in confirmation. 

-000-

They had a nice dinner together, the three of them.

Fiddleford chewed Stan out for his reckless behavior. Then Fiddleford began to mother-hen him after finding out about his eye. In turn, the twins babied Fiddleford throughout dinner, which Fiddleford protested. It wasn’t very relaxing, but it was normal. 

After dinner, Fiddleford left the house saying that he needed a break and would be visiting Gina and Tate for awhile. The twins let him go without much protest. 

Once Fiddleford had left, they stared at each other awkwardly. 

“Is it cool if I take a shower first? You know, before we talk?” Stan asked.

Ford frowned. “I don’t think that’s the best idea, Stanley. You shouldn’t get most of your wounds wet…”

“How long am I supposed to wait to take a shower then?” Stan said, a little frustrated. 

“I’ll help you wash up then,” Ford said with a sigh. 

Stan sighed too, but went with it. “Just like old times.”

-000-

And it did feel like old times. 

Here Stan was, injured and sitting in a bathtub, while Ford washed his hair. Although Ford got the ‘bad’ end of the deal, and often complained to Stanley about it, he quite enjoyed doing this for his brother. It was nice, having someone as strong as Stanley relying on him. 

The warm water and Ford’s careful hands, relaxed Stan. He started reminiscing about the ‘good ol’ days’ and about the completed state of the Stan O’ War. Once they were both cleaned, Ford had taken a quick shower while Stan had checked on his injuries, they were once again left with the looming prospect of continuing their conversation. 

“Eh.. Let’s talk in your room,” Stan said. 

Once there, Ford resumed his position on the bed and Stan made sure that there was no light leaking into the room before sitting next to his brother. Hesitantly, Ford grabbed Stan’s hand. Stan held on. 

“So..” the word came out as a whisper. Stan coughed deliberately and continued, “So, try not interrupt me okay? This.. isn’t easy for me. Talking that is. You know me.”

He paused. 

“Uh, what do you want to know?” Stan asked. 

Ford considered the question. Frankly, there was a lot that he wanted to know. They hadn’t been together for almost eight years, that was a lot of time to cover, not including their younger years. But instead of verbalizing this, Ford said: 

“Whatever you want to tell me.”

Apparently that was the right thing to say. Stan started off with a story that was familiar to Ford. Their parents went out together, leaving him to take care of Shermy. Ford had already started college, so it was just him and the baby. That wouldn’t be the first time Stan had to babysit, nor would it be the last.

And Stan loved it. Reading to him, feeding him, holding him (even changing his diapers), somehow Stan took pleasure from the simple act of taking care of his younger brother. 

During the first few years Ford was away, those stories were Stan’s favorite things to tell him over the phone. Stan spent hours telling him stories about Shermy and what the baby had done that day and Ford loved them. However, the next part of the story was very unfamiliar. 

Stan had finally gotten Shermy to fall asleep next to him. Stan lay there, watching him sleep. Still, peaceful, and with his back to the door, Stan looked to be asleep. Even when their parents had returned, he had continued the ruse, not wanting to disturb Shermy with any sudden movements. 

Their Ma had cooed at the sight and had decided that ‘she wanted a moment looking at two of her boys.’ As a result, their parents had a whispered conversation, not knowing that Stanley was awake and hearing everything. 

Specifically, they had a talk about their tight financial situation. While they were by no means destitute, they still worried about providing for their third child. And ‘wasn’t it great that Stanley wanted to buy something for Shermy?’ his mother had said. ‘He’s doing his job as an older brother’ his father had grunted. 

They continued to whisper to each other, talking about each son. Stanley heard things he most definitely should not have heard, (things that he did not tell Ford in detail, Ford would have to ask him about it at a later date). However, instead of causing him to become jealous of Ford or Shermy, the conversation had strengthened his resolve towards boxing. 

“I began taking more matches, because more wins meant more money,” Stan explained. Ford squeezed his brother’s hand in understanding. “Coach Weave started making me slow down once I got high enough ranked, but at that point I was making good money from my wins. And, I was always the underdog so when Ma bet on me, the family always made a profit.”

Stan paused the story there. Ford patiently waited for his brother to say more, but he didn’t continue. He wanted to hear more, but frankly he was grateful to get this much out of this brother. This was something Stan had bottled up for almost a decade. Not wanting to spook his brother, Ford carefully chose his next words and said, “I know it wasn’t easy, but thank you for telling me.”

Stan sighed. “Ford, don’t thank me. The point of this story was that there are some things I should have told you before. I, I haven’t been telling you everything.”

“Stan…” Ford looked at where he thought his brother’s face was. “Well, we’re both at fault. We both haven’t been telling each other everything for awhile.”

“That doesn’t make it right,” Stan mumbled. 

Ford swallowed. “You’re right, it doesn’t,” Ford agreed. 

They sat in silence, both in their own worlds. 

After a moment, Stan continued his story. 

Stan was quickly ranking up and had even won a few tournaments. And those tournaments had started to win him some pretty substantial amounts of money. He was glad. He was starting to make enough to lighten the load on his parents’ shoulders. 

However, his success brought him something unexpected. The ability to truly disappoint the people he cared about. Before, it had almost been expected that Stanley would amount to nothing special. But now? He realized that he shouldering a huge amount of expectations that all focused on him winning. And not just from their family, now there was Coach Weave, the gym, and his fans. Not to mention, he was the local hero to the town.

There was no way he could stop boxing, not that he wanted to. Stan would have happily continued boxing forever. But…

“Was it your eye?” Ford asked, unable to stop himself. 

“You could say that,” Stan said. “It wasn’t a specific match, but there was this one tournament…”

It was a local tournament. One for boxers like him, rookies that were trying to make a name for themselves. Fast-paced with one match a month, the tournament would quickly weed out anyone who wasn’t made of champion material. 

Stan had been preparing for months for this tournament. Stanley wasn’t the favorite to win, not by a long shot, but he was determined to win no matter what. 

In the first match, he had won against the first seed. The fight had been tough, but Stan had come up on top. Unfortunately, he hadn’t won unscathed. At the end of the match, one of his eyes was crying blood. It wasn’t an injury his Dad or the Coach could handle, so they had brought him to the hospital.

‘You should drop out of the tournament,’ the doctor had said. ‘Right now you’re okay, but that’s only because we drained the blood in the early stages of the injury. Any more and, well, as long as you rest and heal up, you should be fine,’ the doctor concluded. 

Stan had been flabbergasted. Drop out of the tournament? After he had just won against the first seed? And while everyone was counting on him?

He couldn’t. 

So Stan stayed quiet about how serious the eye injury was. The trip to the doctor had taught him how to drain any blood that was in his eye and he had Ford’s books to help him keep his secret. However, each match made his eye worse and worse. 

Not that he needed his eyesight, not for the sort of boxing he did. Get close and get into a slugging match, that was his style. Stan told repeated this to himself everyday and with every match. 

No one found out.

The only one who might have been suspicious was Shermy. Stanley didn’t know how much his younger brother knew, but Shermy could probably figure out that his older brother was keeping some secrets about his life from him. 

This had all changed with the last match. It was high profile and it was one of the main events. The win was supposed to bring Stan to bigger and better things. 

He had won. 

Unfortunately, he had also gotten the shit beaten out of him, and he was unconscious at the end of the match. A doctor had been called to check up on him and that’s when his secret was discovered. The doctor had told him flat out that he was to stop boxing. That if this didn’t get out to the media, that any doctor who found out would stop Stanley from boxing.

If that wasn’t bad enough, Coach Weave had refused to continue being his coach. And if he found Stan trying to continue boxing, he was going to go to the paparazzi himself with the story. 

There was no way he could continue boxing.

Stanley had run. 

Instead of doing something smart, like going to see his brother who lived in the woods where no one would disturb him, Stan went Mexico. He knew some people and they suggested that he try his luck in the fighting gambling dens. 

“I couldn’t go back, but I didn’t want to be useless either. I did the only thing I knew I could do, beat the shit out of people,” he sighed. “That’s when you found me, Ford.”

Ford was speechless for a moment. Then he processed what Stan had just said. 

“Stanley, you are not useless, you hear me? I can’t believe you would do something so dangerous, just because-” Ford’s voice broke. 

“Ford, are you crying?” Stan asked, alarmed. 

Ford tried to hold back a sniffle, but failed. 

“Aww, no, I didn’t, I didn’t mean to make you cry,” Stan said. “Can I turn on the lights?”

“There’s a lamp on the nightstand,” Ford replied. 

Stan turned the lamp on, exposing Ford’s blubbering face to the light. However, Ford noticed that Stan also had tear tracks on his cheeks. 

“Have _you_ been crying?” Ford asked. How had he not noticed that his brother was crying when he was telling his story? Just like everything else he hadn’t noticed. 

A tear began sliding down Stan’s cheek and he sniffed. “Now you got me crying, Sixer,” Stan said with a sad smile on his face. 

Ford was struck with how his brother cried: beautifully. Silent, and unnoticed except for the tears running down his face. The thought of his brother crying silently to keep his pain a secret made Ford burst into another wave of tears. 

“Ford, come on. Don’t cry.” Stan pulled his brother closer so he could wipe away his tears. “Why are you crying anyway?”

“I.. just can’t believe I didn’t know,” Ford said between breaths. “I’m sorry I didn’t know.”

“It’s fine, _I’m fine_ , you big crybaby,” Stan said. 

“Crybaby? You’re crying too,” Ford argued. 

That remark brought a fresh wave of apologies, reassurances, and good-natured insults. However, Ford and Stan continued to cry. Despite this, or maybe because of this, Ford somehow felt lighter. Or maybe that was just the endorphins from crying. Or Stanley’s bad attempts of cheering him up. Either way, Ford was glad for the chance to finally be able to cry for his brother. 

Eventually they managed to stop The day’s events caught up with them, making them fall asleep in each others' arms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Ramblings - 
> 
> And there's the reveal! I hope it wasn't too obvious or underrated: Stan's blind in one eye! I had always planned for him to get out of the boxing game, but I needed a legitimate excuse for him to stop and something that wasn't visible. 
> 
> It's interesting because I had always planned for this to be the injury, so that's why I wrote in the Gremloblin as the thing that makes Ford discover the injury. The Gremloblin is always used for Mystery Trio shenanigans, so I felt bad using it too, but it was a perfect fit for my story. 
> 
> Anyways, I have strong feelings about this last chapter, so I hope you enjoyed it. Thanks again for the comments!


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note - Before this point, this fic could be read as familial and/or friendly, but things are about to change now. Feel free to stop reading if this makes you uncomfortable.

The next morning, things are a little awkward. They both have the same puffy red eyes and messed up hair, which reminds them of their conversation the night before. It's only until they start teasing each other that Ford feels a semblance of normalcy. He hopes that the newfound knowledge that he has doesn’t change the way he acts normally, but it does. 

From Ford’s perspective, Stan looks happier after his confession and more at ease with himself. His brother has even taken to wearing the eyepatch over his bad eye. 

Ford decides to spend more time with Stanley. They watch TV together, workout on occasion (meaning Ford sits on his brother’s back while he does push-ups), and sometimes they spend the night on the roof looking at the stars. Even when Ford works, he tries to do it Stan’s company. 

However, Stan does realize what Ford is up to. Stan puts up with the behavior for a few days before finally convincing Ford to go back to work. Apparently, Stan ‘didn’t need Ford coddling him for fuck’s sake.’

Ford returns to the basement, doing whatever work he can that needs to be done downstairs and can be done without Fiddleford. 

Days later, he’s coming back up when he hears his brother singing off-tune to the radio. He follows the voice outside to see Stan singing and dancing to the music with his eyes closed. 

Ford can’t help but laugh. 

Stan turned to Ford and continued to sing. _“I want to rock with you~”_ Stan sang, dancing over to Ford. “Sing it with me.”

“No, no-”

“Better yet, dance with me!” Stan yanked Ford away from the door frame so that they have room to dance. Then he began to- actually dance. His brother does a shimmy that Ford can’t even hope to replicate and moves easily with the beat of the music.

Ford blinks and can’t help but be impressed. 

“Come on, Sixer,” Stan says with a large grin.

Ford tries to dance along and after a few moments of awkward hip movements and gyrations, he manages to do something resembling a dance. Surprisingly, Stan does not laugh at him, but he does give him a big grin. They continue to dance and do their best moves (which were more goofy than impressive).

At one point, Stan actually grabs Ford and spins him. Laughing, Ford took the chance and did the same, even adding a dip at the end. This makes Stan laugh, making Ford laugh even more, causing them to collapse onto the floor. Somehow, this makes them laugh even harder.

Ford can’t remember the last time he’s done something so carefree. Sure he’s had some fun over the years, but it’s strange how even the simplest things with Stan can make him happy. He can’t believe how he’s lived without Stan for so long, and-

Oh.

-000-

After that day, Ford starts noticing things. 

Small things really, inconsequential to him before, but now…

Ford has known Stanley for his whole life. And just like the time with Stan’s eye, he’s realized that when his twin typically talks, the important details aren’t in what Stan says, but in what he doesn’t say. Action comes easily to his brother and it shows. 

He takes the time to observe his brother. After quite a bit of examination, Ford comes to the conclusion that Stan is.. Stan. He’s acting like he’s always acted, even before the whole boxing mess started. Underneath his hard exterior, Stanley is kind and caring, and possibly the best person that Ford’s met. 

At least to Ford he is. 

And that’s a big deal isn’t it?

Ford has never realized how wonderful Stan is, not in the ways that mattered. In fact, he’s taken Stan for granted all this time and that’s why he’s never noticed. 

Until now. 

So the question on his mind is: What should he do next?

-000-

Ford allowed the next days pass with absolutely no intention of taking action. However, a call from Fiddleford forces Ford to reconsider that notion. Honestly, he’s not ready, not ready to talk, to act, to- do anything really. But thinking about sharing Fiddleford with Stanley had filled him with an unexpected resentment. 

His reaction was both surprising and telling. 

Which is why Ford found himself staring at his brother’s door late at night. 

Gathering his courage, Ford knocked on the door. 

“Come in!” His brother yelled. 

Ford slowly opened the door and peaked inside. He almost ran away when he was greeted with the sight of his brother shirtless and only in his boxers. However, Stan was already looking at him and he knew it would be suspicious if he left. Ford swallowed and stepped into the room. 

“Did ya need something, Ford?” Stan asked. 

Ford’s eyes flick down then up and he it takes a large amount of effort to stop himself from blurting out his brother’s name in response, when he finally notices why Stan’s mostly naked. His brother has taken off the bandages, most of the cuts are healed, except for the one above Stan’s eye. 

His worry immediately replaces any of the other thoughts that Ford has. “Is your eye, okay?” He asked, coming forward to examine it more closely. 

Stan rolled his eyes, but let him. “It’s fine, the bandages just came off in the shower.”

“You should be more careful, Stanley,” Ford scolded. 

“You offering to wash me every night, Ford?” Stan teased. 

Ford could feel himself heat up at that comment. He tries to calm down, after all, it was just Stanley’s being his normal teasing self and- how was he not aware of his brother’s feelings before if this was normal?! And why did he initiate this conversation when he was suddenly aware of his brother’s- everything (again). 

“I’m not oblivious, Stan.” The words spilled out before Ford could stop them. 

The teasing grin on Stan’s face slowly slips away. His brother’s brows furrow slightly and Ford knows this expression now. It’s the look that Stan considers all his options, thinks about all the ways he could get hurt, and recklessly dives into action anyways. 

“I never thought that,” Stan finally says. He’s not smiling anymore and looks more serious than Ford is comfortable with.

Because Ford knows, he knows that they’re coming dangerously close to acknowledging what’s between them. 

“The cooking,” Ford starts, “the spending time with each other, the dancing-”

“I thought you said you weren’t oblivious,” Stanley interrupts. 

And that makes Ford take a mental step back. That was the whole point of the conversation, right? To finally end the elaborate dance that they’ve been doing and bring everything into the open? 

“You’ve always taken care of me, Stan,” Ford says softly. 

Stan closes his eyes then slowly open them. “Do you want me to go?” He says. 

“What?” Ford says incredulously. 

“I can, I can leave, Ford,” Stanley says again, more gruffly this time. 

“Leave?” Ford parrots. 

“It’s, I’m always doing, _wanting_ , the wrong thing,” Stan says. “But, I can leave, Ford, I-”

“No, you haven’t done anything wrong, Stan-” But his brother isn’t listening to him. Stan is about to brush by him and go out the door and possibly leave him forever- Ford grabs his brother forces him to reposition so that they’re face to face. 

“I don’t want you to leave,” Ford says, staring straight into Stan’s eyes. 

“Really?” Stan asks. The fact that Stan is completely serious when he’s asking, makes Ford want to do whatever he can to reassure his brother that he’s wanted. 

“I don’t want you to go, I never want you to go-” Ford stops and feels an oncoming rush of heat. Maybe that was admitting a little too much at once. 

Stan takes another look at Ford. He glances down to where Ford is still holding onto him. He shrugs one of Ford’s hands off, and Ford almost cries, because what if he had been reading the whole situation wrong this whole time, that Stan was just grateful, nothing more, and now he was going to lose Stan anyways-

But Stan gently threads their hand together and steps closer. 

Stan is close enough that Ford can feel the heat between them. He is hyper aware of Stan’s other hand coming up to rest at his back and his brother takes another step closer so that they’re chest to chest now. He’s unable to look away and he wonders if the way Stan looks at him, especially the way he looks now, is the way that Ford has always looked at Stan. 

He hopes so. 

“I’m going to kiss you now, Ford,” Stan says.

Ford leans in at the same time Stan does and their lips meet. 

Their first kiss is tentative, just a simple press of their lips, but Stanford can’t help think it’s more. They’ve always fallen into place and this time is no different. It’s wonderful and perfect, and-

Stanley gently pulls back and presses a soft kiss to his brother’s forehead. “That okay?” He mumbles against Ford’s skin.

“Yes,” Ford says, breathless.

“Then you’re overthinking this, Sixer,” Stan continues. 

Ford buries himself into Stan’s shoulder, embarrassed that his brother caught him. 

“Take your time, Ford. I’m not going anywhere,” Stan says, pressing a kiss to Ford’s cheek this time.

Ford feels an incredible rush of emotion at hearing those words. Instead of letting those emotions overwhelm him, he nuzzles into Stan, trying to calm down and organize his thoughts. Stan continues to hold him close, pressing gentle kisses everywhere he can. Ford inhales the scent of his brother’s skin and lets himself enjoy the moment. 

Although they still haven't put their feelings into words, they just shared something that neither of them can take back. And Ford doesn’t want to take their kiss back. Doesn’t want to pretend that it didn’t happen, that it was insignificant, that it was something to be ashamed of. 

Most of all, Ford doesn’t want to do anything that might make him lose Stan. 

Ford hopes he can show Stan that.

He goes to kiss Stan again, and Stan eagerly kisses him back. This time, Ford allows himself to completely concentrate only on his brother. Stan makes it easy for him and he gets swept away in how this makes him feel complete. 

-000-

Ford wakes up slowly. 

It’s a rarity for him, his mind will usually wake up faster than his body which kickstarts him into action. Mind over matter and all that. But today, he allows himself to gradually come to awareness. He’s warm, comfortable, and safe.

Someone snores next to him.

He tries to sit up, but the other person holding him, and it’s Stanley, of course it’s Stanley, clings to him tighter. Ford’s curled into Stanley, head pillowed in the crook of Stan’s arm. 

Perhaps it is a good thing that his twin has prevented him from leaving. It gives Ford the time to mull over their actions from last night, not that anything had happened. Besides the kissing (and even that memory leaves Ford a bit flushed), Ford remembers the two of them staying up for hours simply looking into each other’s eyes (yes, with the occasional kissing), before finally falling asleep. 

Ford remembers the tender look that Stan gave him through the whole night and melts. Calmed down, Ford finally lets himself relax and enjoy being in Stan’s arms.

Stan continues snoring. 

But, since it doesn’t look like Stan is about to wake up anytime soon, Ford can take the time to drink in the sight of his brother. Despite his brother’s death grip, Ford manages to wiggle himself so he’s propped up and on top of his brother. 

It’s interesting, observing him in his sleep. Stan is a dynamic person. Even when still, he’s always ready to spring into action. Seeing Stan with his body relaxed and loose, is a treat for Ford.

And now they're more than what they were before. Instead of just looking, Ford should take the chance to.. touch, as well. 

Ford flushes and can feel himself turn red. Thank goodness his brother is asleep and unaware of his thoughts.

Slowly, Ford pulls himself up to plant a soft kiss on Stan’s forehead. 

Stan doesn’t wake up.

Emboldened, Ford starts to gently run one hand along Stan’s body. First, he runs his hand appreciatively against Stan’s abs. Not only is it a pleasing feature of Stan’s, they’re also a symbol of his brother’s hard work and also represent the memories Ford has of them working together. 

After a few moments of appreciating them, Ford slowly moves his hand up Stan’s side. He pauses, then skirts around Stan’s nipple (he isn’t quite ready to touch them yet), skimming his fingers along the collarbone then runs his hand in between his pecs. There is a light smattering of hair there and Ford finds himself oddly drawn to it. Stan has more hair on his chest than Ford does, and it’s strangely appealing. He spends a few moments just running his hand through the hair on Stan’s chest. Following the hair, Ford let’s his hand go down Stan’s chest, along his abs, hitting his happy trail, then- 

He stops. 

Suddenly self-conscious, Ford brings his hand back higher and to Stan’s side, rubbing the skin there. After a moment to collect himself, Ford continues his exploration. He brings his hand against Stan’s side, counting each rib individually.

He’s startled when Stan shifts closer.

“That tickles.” Stan says, voice rough with sleep, and most definitely awake. 

“Sorry if I woke you,” Ford whispers. 

“Is fine,” Stan mumbles with a smile.

Ford tries to pull his hand away, but Stan doesn't let him. Stan grabs Ford’s hand and presses it against his chest, right over his heart. Then Stan slowly brings Ford a little closer so he can plant a sleepy kiss against his brother’s forehead. When Stan finishes the kiss, instead of pulling back, he presses his forehead against Ford’s own. 

Having his brother like this, half asleep, with a dopey smile, and bad morning breath, Ford can’t imagine wanting anything else in his mornings. The thought brings part of their conversation to mind, a conversation that they didn’t quite get to finish. 

“Hey, Stan?” 

“Yeah?”

“You don’t have to leave, if you don’t want to. I don’t want you to leave.”

“I don’t want to leave, either. And I won’t, for as long as you’ll have me, Ford.”

“You want to stay forever?”

“Forever it is.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Ramblings - 
> 
> And this first part is finished! I hope you enjoyed the last chapter and I hope it was a good conclusion for the first part of this fic. Yes, I have a sequel (several sequels) in the works. I wanted to separate this part, which is just the beginning for these two. 
> 
> However, I will be taking a break from this universe to work on some of the other Gravity Falls fics I have in mind (and I have quite a few in mind). If you enjoy Stancest, then have I got some stories for you.
> 
> Feel free to leave a comment and tell me what you would like to hear about in the sequel.


End file.
